Edward Everlasting
by Quite Unrequited
Summary: Young Bella Swan, stifled by the formality of her proper life and domineering mother, escapes into the forest only to get lost. She is soon found by Edward Cullen – an achingly beautiful and mysterious boy who's unlike anyone she's ever met – and together they find their sweetest discovery is one another. (Full summary inside)
1. Prologue

**Summary:** Young Bella Swan, stifled by the formality of her proper life and domineering mother, escapes into the forest only to get lost. She is soon found by Edward Cullen – an achingly beautiful and mysterious boy who's unlike anyone she's ever met – and together they find their sweetest discovery is one another. The Cullens, a kind and generous family, have a powerful secret: the keys to everlasting life. And now Bella must choose to live life as she knows it or join them in immortality.

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The following is a Tuck Everlasting/Twilight crossover fanfic that is unconditionally and irrevocably "alternate universe." The summary above, plot, dialogue and italicized text are from the book and movie, Tuck Everlasting. The remaining text (or narration) is my own Twilight-inspired interpretation of the unfolding events, which I hope you will enjoy. For the sake of our story, Edward was born in 1808 and turned in 1825 – he's still forever 17, though.

****I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**Prologue**

Among the few motorists on the main road of Forks, rides a mysterious stranger in black, on the back of a chrome motorcycle. His shiny onyx helmet aids in hiding his identity; keeping his secret from the curious onlookers as he coasts through the intersection at the apex of town.

He pauses briefly as he surveys the landscape, then, certain of his course, proceeds. His route eventually leads him to a narrow dirt path which he follows without hesitation. He comes to a stop near the end, where he removes his helmet and gazes thoughtfully at the familiar sight in front of him, smiling wistfully.

Much has changed in Forks, he's observed, in these 87 years, but it looks as though the important things remain. The forest with its towering army of trees, the stately white house with wrought iron fencing across the way, and, hopefully – above all – his heart.

He isn't entirely sure where he should start, as there wasn't time to adequately plan. So, naturally, he decides to begin at the beginning…


	2. Time Is Like a Wheel

****I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**1. Time Is Like a Wheel**

_ For some, time passes slowly. An hour can seem an eternity. For others, there's never enough. For the Cullens, it didn't exist. Time is like a wheel... turning and turning, never stopping_ _and the woods are the center, the hub of the wheel. _

_ It began the first week_ _of summer,_ _a strange and breathless time, when accident or fate_ _brings lives together. _ _When people are led_ _to do things_ _they've never done before. _

_ On this summer's day, not so very long ago,_ _the wheel set lives in motion in mysterious ways. It set Esme Cullen out_ _in her wagon_ _for the town of Forks,_ _to meet her two sons, as she did_ _once every ten years. _

**_Summertime – 1916_**

Heavily overcast is the day, as is typical for Forks. The muted dove-gray sunlight filters down through a near constant cover of clouds; granting Esme's supernatural pallor a truly porcelain appearance.

Her lovely caramel locks flow in gentle waves about her down to her waist, soft and dreamy like her thoughts, and her kind aurelia colored eyes shine bright, full of the promise that this day holds for her and her family.

Her boys are coming home today and though they are not her flesh and blood sons, her silent mother's heart rejoices and overflows with just as much love. Being timeless, like herself, they would not have changed in these ten years – but oh, the stories they'd have to tell.

She could not wait to soak them all up right along with the two of them, the apples of her eyes whose presence she has dearly missed. Driven by her desire to see them, Esme tightens her grip and tugs twice on the reigns in her hands, encouraging the horse to forgo leisure and quicken its pace.

Arriving near the entrance of town, she halts the horse and descends gracefully from the wagon. After securing the reigns to the available post she turns and takes in the assembly of people milling about. It's been many years since she's left the home she shares with her husband, Carlisle, and she is suddenly eager to see some unfamiliar sights.

With her vantage point at the apex of Forks being her certainty that she won't easily miss her visitors, she cheerily approaches the walkway that leads to the surrounding storefronts. The merchant's goods are prominently displayed in front of each establishment for prospective buyers to freely explore. And explore she does.

Her curious fingers feel the fibers of a large area rug, the heavy handles of two cast iron skillets, and the smooth keys of a typewriter – in turn – as she gradually strolls along. In the course of her perusing her eyes alight on a little girl, holding her dress away from her body in her hands, and turning from side to side.

She gives her a friendly smile as she passes her and snickers softly when she sticks her tongue out at her in return. She looks on raptly as two women walk by wearing what she can only assume is the latest fashion. She admires their delicate colors and textures as they disappear into the crowd.

Deciding she's had enough exploring for one day, she returns to the place where she parked the wagon, and sitting, settles herself at the rear of it. She removes a simple, silver music box from a bag of her belongings and begins cranking the tiny lever.

An old soothing lullaby plays on the air around her as she cranks, overwhelming her with more than a lifetime of memories and she closes her eyes, willing the boys' appearance while she waits. With her eyes closed, she is completely unaware that just a little ways away her sons are at that precise moment making their highly anticipated return.

"Esme!" Edward shouts excitedly at the sight of the woman who's been a mother to him for more years than the delicate creature of his actual birth. He immediately leaves his brother's side. He is only barely mindful of his speed as he breaks out into a sprint towards her, unable to bear the short distance between them, leaving a cloudy trail of dust in his wake.

For his part, though equally gladdened at the sight of Esme, his brother maintains his normal pace. Allowing plenty of time for the two of them to have a boisterous reunion, and time for the dust to settle.

"Edward! Jasper!" Esme trills as she leaps off the back of the wagon and into Edward's embrace. "Oh...!" She exclaims, as he spins her around three full turns in his exuberance. "Oh, I missed you."

"What are you doing here?" Edward asks, a little thrown off to find her here in town and not at the house. The adoration and confusion play upon his face in equal measure, though he can tell from the gentle tenor of her thoughts that there is nothing wrong.

"Oh, I couldn't wait to see you. I missed you, Edward." Long having lost the ability to cry, her eyes sting slightly under the pressure of phantom tears. With a hand on each side of his face, she holds him there. Reacquainting herself with each of his features, one at a time, thumbs tenderly stroking each of his perfect cheeks.

"Oh, wait, I have something for you." He says and quickly begins digging through his leather satchel before she fully loses herself in nostalgia, as she is prone to doing in the first days of these planned reunions.

"Oh, look at you." She whispers adoringly, watching his unruly bronze hair rage like a wildfire on his head, as it is tousled by the breeze – his golden eyes gazing intently back into hers. Edward smiles warmly as he finds himself cocooned in her affection.

They both know he hasn't changed in the 88 years since their initial meeting, let alone within the last decade. But, he happily indulges them both for a moment, listening to her as she continues speaking as though she hasn't heard him.

He doesn't have to read her mind to know she is more enthralled with him than the prospect of any gift. And, if he could blush, he'd be a deep shade of crimson under the strength of her doting.

"I have something." His voice is soft and kind as he makes his second attempt to shift her focus away from him. "Here, look. The Eiffel Tower."

"Would you look at that." She laughs lightly as she takes the tiny replica in her hands.

"I bought it in Paris, France. Oh, Esme, you've never seen anything so tall in your life."

"Hello..." Jasper says as he reaches the place where his mother and brother stand engrossed in conversation. His quiet greeting goes unnoticed amidst their animated chatter, but he does not take offense. Instead, he smiles to himself, watching fondly as his two relatives get all caught up in catching up.

Rather than interrupt them, he makes his way toward the family's faithful steed, resolved to occupy himself in reunion with him while he patiently awaits his turn. "How are you, old friend?" He says in greeting to the animal, as he lovingly strokes and pats his neck.

"Oh, I have something else. I have something else." Edward says as he again fishes the depths of his satchel and produces a small tin from its confines. "Your favorite... decoupage."

"Oh, I've died and gone to Heaven." She says as she captures him again in a snug embrace. "Oh, Edward. Jasper..." She breathes, before leaving Edward's arms and turning in search of her other son.

Upon seeing him she says, "Jasper. Give your mother a hug." The two walk slowly toward one another, and, meeting somewhere in the middle of the former gap between them, they embrace.

On the outside, Jasper appears troubled, and rightly so, as no one can disagree that he's seen more than his fair share of trouble. But, inwardly he is absolutely reeling as he permits himself to absorb Esme's emotions, knowing it is only fleeting joy.

In an effort to prolong this rare point of light in what is otherwise impenetrable darkness, he closes his eyes and rests his chin on her shoulder. And though their moment is much more subdued than the one Esme and Edward just shared, this one is assuredly no less sweet.

"Ten years." Esme sighs as she takes in the visage of her melancholy son, his wavy honey blonde hair hanging in his sad, aurelian eyes. "You're as cozy as barbed wire." She teases him softly, winning a small smile from his lips.

Leaving one arm wrapped around Jasper's she loops the other one around Edward's. "I have you back." She says and with two of the three in their party smiling as broad as the day is long, they make their way together to the waiting wagon.


	3. Isabella Swan

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**2. Isabella Swan**

"Isabella! Isabella!"

Bella cringes inwardly at the sound of her formal name and the shrill, familiar voice summoning her from her peaceful daydreams and the comfort of the cool patch of grass she's found to lounge on.

"Yes, Mother?" She responds dutifully before rolling onto her side, away from the stately white house and the dainty woman with the power to shatter all that is silent and serene. "I need a new name," She huffs quietly to herself, "One that's not all worn out from being called so much." Her companion for the day, a fat bullfrog, croaks several times in succession – obviously communicating his complete agreement.

"Come inside this instant. You're getting filthy!" Pouting in a manner well beneath her 17 years, Bella begins to recount the dull days of her painfully privileged life. She felt certain that the endless hours of piano practice would sooner give her arthritis than make her as "accomplished" as her mother threatens.

"Ow! I can scarcely breathe" Complained her own voice in her head. And she winced at the excruciatingly accurate memory of her earlier self being tortured every morning by corset.

"You must suffer to be beautiful." She winces again at her mother's daily response to her distress – who claims she's quoting the French. Mrs. Swan's disconcerting statement leaves Bella whole-heartedly convinced that both are crazy.

She recalls being forced to play croquet under the blazing afternoon heat with other unfortunately fortunate females of her approximate age and station. All while looking longingly on as the older women sip iced tea beneath the protective shade of their parasols.

And as she envisions sitting in front of elaborate meals spread on a table that would comfortably service twelve, but shared only by herself and her parents, she is sure the wasted decadence will slowly drive her mad.

With a shake of her head she dislodges the unwelcome thoughts and gets to her feet. Before admitting defeat, however, and shuffling inside as her mother bids, she walks the short distance to the wrought iron fence that borders their property – as is her habit. Placing both hands on the vertical bars that are every bit her prison, she partakes in one last wistful gander at the adjacent woods.

_ For Bella Swan_ _one thing was true: the heat of summer was not_ _nearly as stifling_ _as the formality of her life. _ _With every passing day_ _the feeling grew stronger. _ _She was coming closer_ _to the end of something_ _and moving towards_ _the beginning of something new. _ _Change was in the air. _ _It was only a question of when. _

"Wait for me in the car. I won't be a minute." Instructs Bella's mother while on an outing she insisted she accompany her on.

"In the car, Mrs. Swan." Bella mutters mockingly, before becoming distracted from her current state of misery by the sounds of children at play. She turns her full attention to the dusty road, lifts the veil of her hat, and watches happily as their voices cry out in the throes of a baseball game.

"Throw it home! Throw it home!"

"Come on, throw it home!"

"Go!"

"Run to me!"

"Yay!"

"No, no, no, no, no" Drifts her mother's voice from somewhere within the store. She recognizes it as the low, faux polite voice she reserves only for business. "Too large for tea cakes. None of these will do. I prefer petit fours." Before she has a chance to begin actively tuning her mother out, another voice abruptly draws her in.

"What kind of a funny hat is that?" Taken aback, she offers no reply to the approaching local boy. Much to her chagrin, however, the slow burn of a traitorous blush creeps across her face, giving away her discomfort. He's right; it is a rather ridiculous looking hat with its wide, straw brim several times larger than her head, and attached gauzy veil, that, when pulled down, fell just beyond her collarbone. Regardless, she does her best to school her expression as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

"Well, look'ee here. If it's not Miss Moneybags in her fancy car. What's the matter? Don't want to get your feet dirty?" Surprised, yet undeterred by his unprovoked hostility, she is determined to rise to the rude boy's challenge. She tilts her head slightly and listens once again to the goings on inside the store.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Swan. Not much call for such treats out here. Well, I could just make them up for you, special." Hearing the shop keeper and her mother still engaged in conversation convinces Bella that she is indeed fully preoccupied. Excited by the prospect of freedom, no matter how brief, she quickly trades the restrictions of the vehicle in exchange for some much needed recreation. The next sound that Bella hears is the sweetest music to her deprived ears. With her characteristic lack of coordination somehow abated, she finds herself positively giddy as she soars on the wings of the children's incredulity, which quickly melts into hearty encouragement.

"Bella Swan?"

"You've got to be kidding!"

"Wow!"

No longer able to ignore the escalating ruckus outside, Mrs. Swan turns her attention to the storefront window, which affords her a clear view of the local children playing in the road. With wide unbelieving eyes she watches her daughter swing a bat and run recklessly in the road like a regular ragamuffin. Horrified at the scene before her she hastily exits the shop.

"Bella, run!"

"Run, Bella, run!"

"Throw it! Throw it!"

"Throw it home! Come on!"

"Slide, Bella, slide!"

"Isabella!"

The disapproving shriek of her mother reaches Bella's ears and immediately halts her in her place. She awkwardly assumes a more dignified pose; outwardly, projecting remorse at her behavior, while inwardly still thrilling at the feeling of the wind at her back and the bases flying away beneath her feet.


	4. Family Reunion

****I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_**

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**3. Family Reunion**

In the distance, carried on the gentle wind, and far from the reach of Bella's ears, comes the sound of sweet celebration. Giant spruce and madrone trees, forest creatures great and small, the Sol Duc River with its quiet current, and the misty, earthbound clouds – always the clouds – are the only ones who bear witness as the Cullens come together again.

"Oh, and they had their arms crossed and you see, the lines were perfectly square. Come here, come here. I want to teach you. Come on." Edward beckons enthusiastically to Esme from his crouched position in the center of the living room.

With arms crossed over his chest, knees bent squarely beneath him, legs extending then retracting rhythmically, and the encouragement of his family's hearty claps and cheers, he's been teaching them a French dance he picked up during the course of his travels.

Esme shakes her head in the negative at his request. Though thoroughly amused, she's far too content to watch Edward carry on than join him at this time.

"Oh, all the way from France. How about that?" She whispers to herself, marveling as she runs a cool hand along the intricate patterns of the box he gave her in town; never removing her eyes from Edward's nimble form.

"Oh, look. Look-Look at this one." Carlisle enthuses as he watches the tiny scene on the picture animator device the boys brought back with them.

"I want to see, Carlisle. Let me see." Edward says with interest, literally vibrating all over to be sharing in this moment with the people he loves and who love him.

"Here, have a look." He chuckles, relinquishing the contraption into Edward's care.

"Oh! Aah, he shot me! Oh, I'm dead! Oh, oh, my! Oh, my!" Carlisle's boisterous laughter fills the house as Edward clutches his chest dramatically and falls to the ground, pretending the miniature gunman from the animator has gotten the best of him. "Oh, you'll have to see this one. Jasper, look at this!" When Jasper doesn't respond, he need not see his face or hear his thoughts to know that he's been overtaken by one of his darker moods.

"Oh... let's see." Esme's maternal voice rings out. She exudes comfort and all encompassing love as she rises from the couch, eager to offer herself as Jasper's replacement. She knows that Carlisle will see to him, leaving her free to absorb Edward's youthful exuberance.

"Okay, come here, I want to show you." Edward assures as he willingly accepts her gracious gesture; his gratitude and respect evident in his eyes.

"All right." She hums warmly, with a smile as bright as the light in his golden gaze. As the two engage in good natured play, slowly, purposefully, an empathetic father makes his way toward his despondent son.

"Good to have you home, son." Carlisle says after taking a seat in a nearby chair next to Jasper. "I'm glad to see you and the family together." He looks on fondly at the side of his face, as he has yet to look him in the eye.

The pain he can clearly see there, etched into his strong profile alone, grieves him greatly. His compassionate heart longs to grant him a reprieve from the unmitigated sorrow that has woven itself, like fiery venom, into the very fabric of Jasper's being. _If only there were a way_ he thinks helplessly to himself. _If only he would let me._

"But don't get used to it. War's coming, I hear. I'm joining up. I'm going to fight the Huns. Get as far away from this place as I can." Standing, Jasper retrieves a chair and sets it and himself in front of Carlisle.

"Oh, you think that will solve things, do you? You haven't had enough killing for two lifetimes?" Further saddened by his son's morose intent, he reclines in his seat, settling in for the sober conversation he knows is coming.

"Somebody's on to us. I know it. There's a man who's been following us and we've lost him several times, but... he keeps coming back. I think he knows something. This man..."

While dancing across the room with Esme, Edward watches the memory of their latest encounter with the strange man as it unfolds in Jasper's mind. The peculiar man in a yellow suit is pursuing them at night, as they run at an acceptable human speed and hop aboard a departing train, making their narrow escape as the man looks on.

His pace is unhurried as he walks along the tracks in their wake, in that eerie way of his, as though he isn't at all eager to catch them; as though he's got all the time in the world in which to do so.

All the while the whistled notes of a familiar tune fall from his foreign lips, caught in the night air the haunting sound is carried along. It lilts in and out of their hearing long after he's disappeared from their sight.

"Edward..." Esme laughs his name, delighted as he twirls her in circles with abandon around the room.

"Whoo!" He replies with equal lightness of heart, desperate to sustain the merry mood they're in. All too aware that one word from Jasper across the way could easily break the happy enchantment they've created for themselves.

"We're being tracked." Jasper states ominously. His gloomy statement descends, immediately transforming the atmosphere. Edward both hears and feels his cold, dead heart drop before he takes in the worried expression on Esme's face. He cannot help the pain he feels, or the simmering fury that this solemn countenance could so quickly replace the joyous one that preceded it.

"Oh, Jasper, we lost him. Don't go spoiling everything." Edward pleads through his anger. It isn't his wish to make matters worse by lashing out at his brother.

"Yeah, we lost him, Edward...but he keeps coming back." Jasper reminds, though he knows it to be impossible for his brother to forget.

"It was only a matter of time before someone found us. The world is closing in. Entire forest is almost gone. All except this little wood. I saw tire marks down on the lower banks...a few weeks ago. There will be more. I don't want anyone going to town. Not for anything, and that's that." Carlisle's voice warbles, taking no pleasure in placing these somber restrictions on his family. A family, who, until now, had always felt free and protected behind the shield of the silent forest surrounding their home.

"Carlisle." Esme breathes, concern clear and dominant in her voice and on her preternatural features.

"You see any strangers in the woods getting too close you know what to do. No exceptions. Our time here is almost done. I can feel it."


	5. The Man in the Yellow Suit

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**4. The Man in the Yellow Suit **

As the sun sets and muted grey daylight fades softly into twilight, the cricket's nightly song begins to rise from the mossy green earth. One by one a few stars up above emerge from their cloudy hiding places, gently illumining the sky with their subtle beauty. And likewise the fireflies take their part in evening's subdued luminescent display, seeming to appear from out of nowhere, much to Bella's amazement and delight.

She has heard it said that some wish to capture time in a bottle; which has always seemed a rather silly notion to her. For who would want to seal away something as intangible as time, when you could capture the brilliance of little low-lying stars?

Bella watches the creatures intently, following their fascinating flickering glow with her eyes. Like a newborn baby is cradled close to the bosom; such is the quart sized Mason jar she commandeered from the kitchen. The opening of which she so carefully covered with the loosely woven cheese cloth she cut herself and secured with rubber bands.

_It's as fine a temporary home as I ever saw – and much preferred over the darkness of a box._ She muses to herself before leaping forward lightly on one foot as she strikes at the night air with her hand – laughing as she comes up empty handed.

Again and again she grasped and giggled, turning her efforts into a game that she was sure the fireflies were in on. She was enjoying herself so much that she came to no longer care if she ever caught one, for all the fun she was having in the trying.

"You'll never catch one that way." Already out of breath from her game, Bella wheezed and quickly spun around; startled at the sound of a man's voice that she did not recognize standing behind her.

The sight of him only confirmed that she indeed did not know him, but seeing that they were still separated by the iron fence helped her to regain her composure. As much composure as a seventeen year old _could_ regain, after being seen giggling and hopping about like a drunken bunny rabbit.

More intrigued than incensed by his sudden interjection, and seeing that he might be somewhat knowledgeable about the subject, she decides to come closer and pose a formal inquiry.

"Do you know about catching fireflies?" She asks as she regards the interesting man in the yellow suit. Interesting because of his peculiarity – no adult male she knew would ever be seen in public in such jarringly bright attire. He looked as though he were covered in saltwater taffy. Not that she minded in the least; Bella adored saltwater taffy.

"Afraid not, never tried. I prefer... bigger game. Though I suspect the strategy is much the same." He offered in some quick uncommon cadence not partial to these parts. It was so strange to her ears in fact that she almost laughed; not at all out of unkindness, however, because she rather liked his funny way of speaking. But, she quickly caught herself and covered it with a dainty cough, knowing how impolite her laughter would seem to her company.

"Strategy?" She repeated, curious. He may be an oddly dressed fellow, but she had to admit he was granting her the most interesting conversation she's had with a grown up in…well, ever. And with rapt attention she gave him her ear.

"One must never announce one's presence to the prey," He began in a voice much lower and slower than that of his previous.

"One must become part of the scenery...invisible...almost disappear." He continued, whispering now as he advanced slowly, drawing her in with every word and ever closer with every step.

"And be patient until the exact, right moment arrives..." His hand suddenly flashes out causing Bella to squeal as he handily captures a firefly within inches of her face. "Take a prisoner."

"For you?" He concludes his exhilarating demonstration with a smile, moving his closed fist in offering toward her.

"No, thank you." She graciously declines, with a smile that matches his own, eyes wide with wonder. Though she considered it a kindness to offer his "prisoner" she'd much prefer to continue her game. She can't help thinking the fireflies would be far less inclined to participate if she succeeded in imprisoning them, even if said imprisonment were brief.

Opening his hand he releases his tiny captive back into the wild. "You're quite right. A girl of your age should find...trapping suitors more interesting than trapping insects, anyway. Far easier, I might add. Have you lived here long?"

"Forever. Why?" She answers somewhat uncomfortably, willing the excessive flow of blood to abstain from her cheeks at his unexpected and equally inappropriate compliment.

"I'm... looking for some old friends who live hereabouts. Thought you might help me find them." He says in a tone that would hint at near disinterest, if it weren't for the unmitigated interest swimming in the depths of his eyes.

"My father practically built Forks. He knows everyone. Perhaps he can help you." She informs him without hesitation, feeling something along the lines of relief wash over her at the prospect of passing him over to her father.

"Perhaps. But I quite like talking to you." Relief recedes quickly into alarm at his confession. No grown up has ever spoken to her in such a manner and she decides that she doesn't like it. No matter how closely his suit resembles her favorite treat.

"Isabella? Isabella, who are you talking to out there?" At her mother's approaching voice, her present state of alarm is now intermixed with unequal parts of relief and chagrin. She sighs and closes her eyes to hide their present course as they roll unhindered in her sockets.

"I don't know. He hasn't told me his name." She grimaces internally at the situation she's found herself in. Her mother is sure to scold for using poor judgment – again – which, in Bella's opinion wasn't poor per se…just slow. To her credit, she had come to the conclusion that she was indeed in bad company. If only she had concluded that conclusion a little sooner. _Just twenty seconds sooner._

"Good evening, madam." The man cordially greets Mrs. Renee Swan, as he swiftly removes his hat. "Please forgive my intrusion. This young lady tells me you've lived here forever. I thought you might know of a certain family goes by the name of..."

"I hardly know everyone, nor do I want to. And I don't stand outside discussing such a thing with... strangers." Mrs. Swan interrupts unapologetically, wrapping her arm protectively around her daughter's waist.

"Then I beg your pardon. Good evening, young lady. Madam." Bella knows better than to offer a response to anyone her mother has deemed unworthy, and before another word can be uttered her mother spins them on their heels and leads them in the direction of the house. They're not more than a few steps away from the fence when the man begins to whistle a most unusual melody.

"This is why I worry about you, Isabella. You don't have the sense not to talk to a man like that." Her mother whispers in her ear, wholly exasperated and shaking her head from side to side.

Bella looks over her shoulder and steals one quick gander beyond the gate; into the night and the not-so-far-off company of trees. And she knows instinctively that she'd much rather be with them than face that which awaits her inside.

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When Bella awakes the next day, she is greeted by Forks' customary grey-green early morning light, like that of a cloudy day in the forest, as it filters in through her windows and eyes. It is the gentlest of wake up calls – never abrasive – which she has always appreciated.

She stretches and rolls to her side where she is met with familiar fluffy pillows and the also familiar, but much less expected, crinkling of paper. Rolling away again she locates the source of the sound and discovers it is a note from her parents, requesting her presence in the study immediately after breakfast. Though this summons is the first of its kind, she is filled with a sense of foreboding.

After breakfast, she follows her parents into the study and takes a seat in the single chair, obviously reserved for her, which sits opposite two others. Looking between them expectantly, she isn't waiting long before the purpose of this meeting is brought to bear.

"A proper education gains one entré into society." Her mother divulges stoically in a classic schoolmarm manner. This instructive tone of her mother's is on its own enough to indicate that there's trouble afoot. But, when also added to her inclusion of the French language, she knows she's done for. If it's one thing Bella's learned, it's that absolutely _no good_ has ever come of her mother speaking French.

"Your mother and I have given this a great deal of thought." Charles Swan says slowly, his kind eyes already apologizing for what he knows his girl will perceive as a mighty blow.

"Middlehouse Academy for Girls in Newport, has an excellent reputation." Bella instantly shuts her eyes, struggling to fight back tears at her mother's announcement.

"Middlehouse? But that's a terrible place, everyone says so. It's like a jail." _Surely they must not know how students are treated there_, Bella thought only barely managing to keep back the panic. The poor things are mercilessly torn down and reconstructed into creatures that are beyond recognition. How many friends had she lost that way already? All of them returned as dull, lifeless versions of their former selves.

"Nonsense. Girls emerge from there as refined young ladies well-versed in etiquette and manners, both of which you are sorely lacking." She cannot suppress the shudder as she listens to her mother clearly communicate her unshakable and utmost approval of such a dehumanizing institution.

"But I don't want to be one of those girls." Bella protests, and for the first time in her life she is truly terrified.

"Which is precisely why you must go. I cannot let your unbridled nature ruin your chances for a respectable future." The finality she sees in her mother's demeanor is unmistakable and she knows she will receive no help there. With desperation falling with each tear from her eyes she looks to her father for hope.

"Isabella... I'm sorry...but we have to do what's best for you." Her father attempts to assuage soothingly. But, in another earth-shattering first, his mild-mannered disposition offers her very little comfort.

"I won't do it. I'm not like those girls. I won't go!" Surprising even herself with her sudden outburst, she's on her feet and beating a hasty retreat from the room.

"Isabella!" Her mother shouts after her.

"I won't go!" She shouts back.

Wanting to escape she starts to head for her room, but realizes that isn't far enough. She dashes instead onto the porch, but something inside says "further still." She sprints across the yard, her pristine dress flowing in a frenzy of white layers all around her and still it isn't enough. Finally, she clings to the wrought iron fence that has always served to keep her in as much as kept anyone out – chest heaving, tears streaming – trying to steady herself. And through wet, bleary eyes she focuses dead ahead on the ever beckoning forest.

_ Bella Swan was to be sent_ _500_ _miles away to be educated. _ _But what her parents didn't_ _understand_ _was she only wanted to step_ _just outside her fence... so she did. _


	6. The Woods

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**5. The Woods**

_ What in these quiet woods should be so forbidden? Bella had always sensed a mystery waiting for her there. It was a place so entirely different from what she knew, so far away from her tight, pruned world. _

The initial quiet soon gives way to an array of gentle sounds. And Bella feels as though she has strayed into a dream; a lush, woodland dream full of giant ferns and tree trunks that stretch as high as the cloud-covered sky. Everything her eyes can see is of the purest green here; like this is the very place where green was born.

Her new environs are so magical in appearance that she can't help feeling all together magical herself; as if she were a whimsical fairy or an enchanting forest nymph. Or, better still, as if she might encounter such a one at any moment, emerging like an ethereal vision from amongst the airy, featherlike leaves.

She casts her eye high and low and everywhere in between, taking in sounds so sublime she can't imagine any creature in existence that could make them. And sights so gloriously emerald and jade she just can't believe her eyes.

There are smooth, overhanging leaves as big as her head and twisted roots and limbs bigger than her entire self. Intrinsically she knew this must be an ancient forest, because only scores of time could allow things to grow so large.

Deeper among the foliage and the towering trees she goes, pushing aside vines like decorative lace curtains and traipsing across moss like finely woven rugs. Lulled by the living lullaby of the woods, she presses forward. Content in her exploring; losing all sense of the passage of time.

She carried on this way, completely swept along by the current of her curiosity, until once ensorcelled sounds give way to something utterly unsettling. In an instant the spell is broken. And her newly discovered world, which was so dreamlike in quality at the first, is now very much like a nightmare.

How did she get here and how will she get back? She ponders nervously as she pushes and claws her way through thick brush and vast vines. She wonders had they really seemed beautiful to her before as she fights to untangle herself from their clutches.

The further she goes the more turned about she becomes and her hot tears blaze a fiery trail down her much colder cheeks. Forcing herself through yet another area of dense brushland, only seconds from succumbing to the impulse to faint, she finds herself entering a small clearing.

In the clearing, positioned at the foot of a very large tree lies a spring. And kneeling over the spring is a young male in the midst of refreshing himself from it; repeatedly lowering his hand and bringing it back to his mouth. She can't see his face, as he's bent down toward the water, but, what she can see immediately holds her interest.

On top of his bowed head is a mane of untidy, bronze-colored hair. The unique color so striking against the surrounding green that it doesn't seem real. Giving the appearance of fire so fiercely, one almost expects the leaves above his head to go up in flames.

As she looks on, his hand suddenly stills. Slowly, the youth rises to his feet and turns his body to face her. She notices when his shoulders cease to move, in that distinct way that tells her he is no longer breathing. This is a fact that is soon forgotten, because, at her first unobstructed view of him, it becomes apparent that her own respiratory system is being threatened.

Hard, black eyes set in a beautiful pale white face assaults her senses. As she continues to behold his visage, helpless to turn away, it causes a physical stinging in the flesh of her chest and takes every bit of her breath away.

He does not speak nor does he make any movement toward her, but his hands continuously clench and unclench at his sides. So tightly, she cannot detect even the barest hint of the pinkish-red pigment of blood anywhere along the surface of his skin.

Shifting her gaze back to his eerie ebon eyes, she only just resists the urge to tremble. She realizes it's an uncanny contradiction, but innately she knows that she is in far more danger from this achingly gorgeous fellow than ever she was when wandering the woods.

She can't imagine what she's done in these few minutes that would warrant his hostile reaction. For his part, Edward is equally confused as to his violent response to the girl. He could hear her fragile heart and feel her warmth long before she entered the clearing.

His decision not to engage humans had served him well in the past. So, much as before, he held his position in the hopes that she would simply pass him by. All was well, even as he heard her in the brush. By the staccato pace of her heart he guessed she was distressed because she was lost, and determined it wouldn't take long to break protocol and point her in the right direction.

He didn't have time to question why he could only guess and not read the precise reason in her mind, before a change in the air stream moments after her arrival changed everything.

With the aid of the wind, her scent fell upon him like a felled giant spruce tree…

His throat erupted in furious flames that licked and scorched him; from the top of his esophagus to the bottom of his empty stomach. He could not recall a time where he had been so strongly consumed by the thirst.

Nearly a century he'd spent surviving on the blood of animals, convincing himself he was something other than a monster – a murderous fiend. Only now he is cruelly reminded of the hideous truth: that he is a predator and this girl is his prey. He is a vampire, and she had the sweetest blood he'd smelled in 90 years.

When he stood to his feet he had every intention of striking. And were it not for the distant image of the monster reflecting back to him in her chocolate brown eyes, he would have. That minuscule sighting saved her life.

He quickly stopped the flow of air to his lungs, shutting out any further invasion of her scent. With the biggest threat neutralized it was easier for him to think clearly. He thought of his family and how he would not have to disappoint them with what would have been a grievous slip.

As he becomes a rational being once again, he takes a few moments to think about what he will say to the girl. Speaking requires air, and with only so much left before it is necessary to take another breath, it suffices to say, he wants to choose his words wisely.

The first order of business being: convince her to vacate these woods. If she isn't near them or the spring, then there'll be no reason to bring her home to Carlisle. Though, why he should mind doing so in the first place is beyond even him.

"How long have you been standing there?" He asks in a voice like velvet wrapped in the most enticing melody. He's doing a very good impression of someone who's been caught by surprise. Of course, with his vampiric senses, Edward knew precisely how long she'd been there…too long. But, for the sake of appearances, it behooves him to play human from time to time.

"Not long at all. I was only walking past, and I..."

Not waiting to hear her explanation, he continues. "Well, you shouldn't...be in these parts of the woods. It's best you turn around and go home." Plainly seeing her hesitation he adds a stout, "Well, go on, now, get!" by way of further encouragement.

"Excuse me, but I own these woods, and...I'll _"go on and get"_ when I want to." She politely, albeit a bit sassily, informs the obviously ill-informed and ill-mannered young man.

"You own these woods?" He asks skeptically, gesturing all around him with an outstretched hand. Everyone knows the rightful owners of this land are the Swans, and similar wise, everyone knows they are, of all people, little likely to venture into them.

"Yes, I do." She confirms matter-of-factly.

Intrigued, he takes several steps toward her. "What's your name?"

"Isabella. Bella...Swan." She stammers, mesmerized and rendered half stupid by the unexpected sight of his beauty from a much closer vantage. The intense look he's giving her isn't helping matters, as it draws her blush like a magnet and causes her heart to beat faster.

"A Swan? Well, I'll be. Is that a fact? Well... Bella Swan, like I was saying you need to turn around and go home." He detects the excess heat in her cheeks before the color appears, as well as the sudden increase in her heart rate. But, being unable to read her mind, he assumes this is due to his earlier theory of her being lost and that she's simply embarrassed about it.

"It just so happens that I was on my way home before you made your rude suggestion, and, I would be happy to continue on my way…if I only knew which way to go." She admits miserably, now having recovered from whatever it was that seized her with his sudden proximity.

"In other words, you're lost? I'll point you home." He volunteers as he guides her with one hand and begins walking. Glad to know that it will be relatively easy to see Miss Swan on her way, and that his theory is correct.

"I'd be much obliged. But I want a drink first." She announces as she turns and makes her way toward the spring.

"Wait... no! No!" He adamantly objects as he rushes at human speed to block her path.

"What?" She inquires, truly baffled by this the latest of his strange behavior.

"You don't want that water. Uh, it's poisoned." He grimaces internally at his pathetic attempt to dissuade her.

"I saw you drink some." She rebuffs incredulously, fully convinced of what she saw with her own eyes. What he was actually doing, however, was rinsing the blood of his recent kill from his lips – but he can't very well tell _her_ that.

"Well, now I'm feeling sick." He decides to continue with his original story, though it sounds unconvincing to his own ears.

"You don't look ill. I'm dry as dust." She mumbles as she moves past him.

"I said, leave it alone!" He shouts as he grabs and turns her in the opposite direction, regretting being forced to physically restrain her.

"Let go of me! My father will have you arrested!" He immediately turns her loose as soon as she begins to struggle. Taking advantage of her freedom, she takes off like a shot into the brush. As she runs she could swear she hears him suck in a rather large intake of air.

"You're not going to go and tell him, now, are you? Hey! Come back! Don't run away! Come back!" Thoroughly surprised to find that the girl can run like a jack rabbit, and furious that he now has to pursue her at a human clip, he follows the sound of her heart into the forest.

Bella, hearing that the young man isn't far behind, plows her way through the thick foliage as hard and fast as she can. Without regard for skin or skirt as she receives cut after cut across her arms and legs and tears a frilly piece of fabric off her dress.

So concentrated is she on getting away from the beautiful, but terrifying young man, she isn't being mindful of what's directly in front of her. The next thing she knows, she's hitting something so hard it knocks the breath out of her. At the feel of gloved, but equally hard hands on her wrists, she realizes she didn't hit some_thing_…but, some_one_.

"Where you going so fast, Miss?" A slow, southern drawl whispers softly in her ear.

"No! No!" She cries repeatedly, trying, but ultimately failing, to free herself from his iron grasp.

"Jasper, wait!" Edward pleads frantically as he catches her up. For reasons unbeknownst to him, he desperately wants to see the girl home, unscathed. He knows no physical harm will come to her. But, what's coming could take days to decipher, and the separation from her family and everything familiar may be too much for her to bear.

"You know what Carlisle said, Edward. No exceptions." Jasper seethed, his voice challenging, though he knew it would not come to fisticuffs.

"Help!" Bella screams through fresh sobs, uncertain of what's to become of her.

"You can't do this." Edward says, trying again to reason with his brother.

"Stop! Let go!" Bella continues to shout as she swings wildly, landing ineffectual blows about her capturer's face and body.

"We can't. Jasper!" Edward calls as his brother puts himself and Bella on his horse. Concerned that she may severely injure herself in the process of fighting his brother, he pleads as they gallop away: "Please don't fight him, Bella, you'll only hurt yourself!"

Irritated, Edward turns and takes a shortcut. Not being able to employ his full speed to beat them to the house, it is his only recourse. He simply cannot afford to arrive before they do and arouse Bella's suspicions.

As he runs, he listens. His brother is well within his range of hearing and he determines their distance and speed from his thoughts, and adjusts his own accordingly. Barred from her mind, he is comforted by the sound of her beating heart. It's steady; most likely Jasper's doing, as his ability to influence emotions has defused countless situations over the course of their long lives.

Thankful for his brother's act of compassion toward her, he follows the calming sound like a metronomic beacon all the way home.

**.**

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**.**

Outside, at the Swan residence, a heartsick father stares aimlessly from a wrought iron fence, as servants call for his missing daughter under the waning light of day.

"Miss Swan!"

"Miss Swan!"

"Miss Swan!"

"Where are you?!"

Over and over they call; their many voices can be heard all over the perimeter. And yet, nothing but empty silence is there to receive it. Inside, a guilt-ridden mother loses her grip on composure as she stands at the window, watching.


	7. An Important Event

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**6. An Important Event**

Unnaturally calm – this is the summation of Bella's current condition. Reason tells her that she should be far more concerned with the velocity of the trees whizzing by, the brutish man holding her captive, and the beast galloping wildly beneath her into the unknown. But, for the life of her, she can't quite bring herself to care properly.

As the trees thin ahead she can see a house appearing; a large cabin, really, that's nestled on one side by the Sol Duc River. Upon their approach, she observes its unique décor. Namely, the homemade wind chimes consisting of empty perfume bottles of varying colors, bells, iron keys, glass lamp covers and a beautiful rectangular crystal.

She's admiring the rainbows the pretty crystal is throwing when the voice of her captor pulls her from her thoughts.

"Ho." He commands the horse, bringing them to an abrupt standstill. "We're stopping here. Not a word out of you, hear me?" He says as he pulls her roughly from the animal, causing her to cry out in protest. It is then that the unnatural calm melts away, and the fear she knows should have been there all along consumes her.

He proceeds to pull her in the direction of the house, paying no attention to her angry cries or the fearsome struggle she's putting up.

"Jasper!" Esme exclaims. She was sweeping the porch but immediately drops her broom at the sight of her son treating a young lady so poorly. "What are you doing?" She continues as she abandons her task and rushes to her aid.

"No!" Bella whimpers, thrashing wildly in Jasper's arms trying to get him to release her.

"Let the poor girl go." Esme demands and he reluctantly relents. Due to the force of her struggles, she falls out of his now loose hold and onto the ground. Thankfully she's met with an abundance of leaves that break her fall, but the soft landing does nothing to buffer her tears.

"There's no reason to be frightened, young lady." The timeless mother assures gently, wanting so very much to comfort her in her distress. She begins to reach for her, but thinks better of it, realizing her icy embrace would only frighten her further.

"I caught her at the spring with Edward. She's a Swan." He spouts in an accusatory tone, pointing his finger as though she were some kind of criminal.

"Oh, Lord. It's finally happened." She breathes; her melodic voice barely above a whisper.

"I want to go home, please. I want to go home." Bella implores, while trying to catch the breath that her sobs are robbing her of.

"There, there, child." Esme murmurs softly as she lowers herself to the ground in front of her. "Please don't cry. We're not bad people. We'll take you home just as soon as we can. I promise." She gives her a sweet smile before standing and turning to her son. "Jasper, go find Carlisle. He's across the river. He'll know what to do with her."

"Tell Edward I'm going to fix that mouth of his." He threatens as he grabs the reigns of the horse and stalks off toward the river.

Anxious for one of the few times in her immortal life, Esme retrieves her music box from the pocket of her apron. She cranks the lever quickly, causing the notes of the lullaby to tumble out at a faster tempo – matching her steps – as she paces back and forth.

Bella feels much better being left in her current company, preferring it greatly over that of Jasper's. She watches her for a while, listening thoughtfully to the oddly familiar melody.

"I've heard that." She admits quietly, furrowing her brow as she attempts to recall where she'd heard it.

"Have you? It's, it's my little music box. I found it in the forest one day. Just waiting for me, I expect. I've had it a long, long time. I imagine the previous owner used to put her babies to bed with it every night. I'm sure it gave 'em such sweet dreams."

Seeing that her guest has calmed down considerably since her arrival, Esme invites her inside for a bit of refreshment. They always keep a little food and drink in the house, for the sake of appearances, and the occasional weary traveler in need of nourishment.

"I'm sure my boys didn't mean you any harm." She says handing Bella a cool glass of water.

"Then why did they bring me here this way? Why am I here?" She demands, ignoring the glass, her sad voice interlaced with angry undertones.

"You have every right to be upset." Esme exhales heavily taking a seat beside her. "And I know your family must be...worried sick about you."

"Where's the child?" Carlisle asks as he cautiously enters the room with Jasper and Edward in tow. At the sight of her Edward begins to fidget, running his hand through his unkempt hair and tucking his windblown shirt into his trousers. He doesn't know what exactly has come over him, but, he's aware that Jasper is watching him warily.

"She's no child... Carlisle." His wife gently corrects. He comes a little closer and with all four of them now standing before her, Bella notices how very beautiful they all are. All of them are covered in a flawless alabaster complexion and share the same breathtaking liquid gold eyes. Even Edward, whose eyes, not more than an hour ago, had been black as pitch. And each of their voices possesses varying tonalities of the same musical quality; though she likes to imagine that awful Jasper's is woefully out of key.

With a small gesture of his hand, Carlisle beckons Esme to the far side of the room, and, joining them, they begin quietly whispering amongst themselves. Bella looks on with interest, catching every other word or so – completely awed by the sound of their unintentional four-part harmony.

"Does she know?" Carlisle inquires.

"Why do you think I brought her...?" Jasper whispers sharply causing Edward to whisper something back inaudibly.

"Yeah, but now she knows about us, thanks to you." Jasper throws back at Edward, his voice rising to a stage whisper. Esme turns and smiles uneasily at their houseguest…

"Shh! Shh!" She shushes quietly into the huddle, gesturing with her hands to remind them to keep it down.

"She's a Swan, she only knows..." Edward begins to defend.

"Knows what?" Bella interjects, rapidly losing patience with this rather strange set of circumstances. The Cullens all turn at once to face her and for a few awkward seconds they just stand there staring at one another.

"Miss Swan, this is my husband, Carlisle Cullen." Esme starts, using an overdue introduction as a means of deflection. "Carlisle, meet Miss Swan."

"Hello, Miss Swan." Carlisle says, extending his hand which she does not take. She isn't meaning to be rude. But, finds she is experiencing the same queer reaction to his proximity as with Edward's – only to a lesser degree. Assuming it's too soon for physical contact; he simply steps away and addresses the others. "She's the most important event that's taken place in this house in 80 years. Turning his attention back to Miss Swan he asks, "Are you hungry?"

Still feeling the effects of his nearness, she hopes she responded with a slight nod of her head and didn't just gape at him stupidly.

"Oh, well, let's, let's all eat." Esme encourages with mock enthusiasm. Every vampire in the room goes a little paler at the thought of consuming human food. But, silently agree to go along with the charade…resigned to spend a portion of the night retching in the woods.

"Edward, pass me that plate, please?" Carlisle asks politely, though he actually wants him to chuck said plate as far from him as the north is from the south. Edward acknowledges his verbal request, chuckling softly at his father's very contrary inner monologue.

"Mmm, where's the fish?" Edward manages to say without a trace of a grimace on his face.

"Oh, they weren't biting for some reason." _Thank goodness_ Esme remarks silently, _they're such slimy, foul smelling little critters_.

"'Cause Carlisle can't fish?" Edward teases lightly, knowing perfectly well that he'd chased every one of them off just this morning.

"Doesn't matter. There's plenty." Esme announces as she places another platter of unappealing human delicacies on the table.

"I can't fish if there are no fish. And there are no fish if you keep scaring the fish away." Carlisle replies knowingly, winking an eye at his son's shocked expression. He may not be a mind reader, but he can smell a prank-pulling rat when he's sitting at the table.

"Mmm, this looks good." Jasper joins in with a small smile, though he's sure he's seen animal carcasses on the battlefield that looked better.

"Oh! Isn't this nice? Everybody sitting down together and having Miss Swan here. It's just like having a party." Esme affirms, hoping to relieve some of the tension when she notices that Bella isn't eating.

"My father will come looking for me." She discloses to no one in particular, eyes fixed squarely on her empty plate.

"Your father... will cut down the entire forest the way things are changing around here. Make himself a very rich man." Carlisle declares between forkfuls of something that leaves an unpleasant after taste.

"Oh, now, let's not ruin a perfectly good meal with a lot of talk." _Or with a lot of eating_, Esme thinks to herself, as she gives her family the silent signal that this portion of the ruse is over. If the only human in the room isn't going to eat, there's no reason the rest of them should continue to suffer.

"My father has plenty of money. He'll pay. Anything you want." Bella informs looking directly at Carlisle, eager to negotiate the terms of her release.

"We don't want your father's money, Miss Swan." Carlisle asserts solemnly, holding her gaze.

"Then let me go home." Bella says sternly, feeling more than a little weary from the day's ordeal.

"We will. We'll let you go home...just like I promised." Esme reassures, with an air about her that's so warm and kind she finds it impossible not to believe her.

"Directly." Carlisle concurs. "We'll need to be able to trust her first, however, before we send her back to her parents."

"Trust her? We can't trust her. Or any normal people. She'll turn on us in a second." Jasper spits bitterly.

"No, she won't." Edward rebuffs, with so much conviction she can't stop herself as she lifts her head and looks at him curiously.

"You're a fool. You don't even realize what you've done here." Jasper says, tossing his fork onto his plate with a loud clank. Without another word he abruptly rises from the table and walks out the door.


	8. Bella's Disappearance

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**7. Bella's Disappearance**

Darkness descends, extinguishing what little light remains, but it is no match for the darkness that has settled within Renee Swan's heart. Hours after the search of their property has been called off she yet stands at the window, watching and willing for her daughter's return.

Every tick of the clock seems to deepen the surrounding shadows. And as she stares at the wrought iron fence, a most disturbing thought encroaches on the fringes of her troubled mind.

She steps closer to the window; her watery eyes set firmly on the fence as the recollection of a stranger in yellow causes her airway to suddenly constrict. Her pupils dilate and her mouth falls open in horror as she gasps several times in search of her next breath.

"Him." The word falls listlessly from her lips, as it echoes once and dies on the air around her. "It's him." She says louder, recoiling as much from the resounding echo as the very thought itself. "Charles!" She calls for her husband, the fear in her voice heightening the fear in her heart. Turning hastily away from the front window she exits the room.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

"I expect you to find her, Harry. That's your job." Charles exhorts Constable Harry Clearwater as they walk in the hallway leading to the official's office. His demeanor is much more demanding than is typical for him, but, that's certainly understandable in light of recent events.

"I've already wired her description down the main line. They'll keep a lookout and we'll get up a search party come morning." Harry informs Charles patiently, wanting to assure him with his words that they're doing all they can.

He lays a hand on the Harry's arm, stopping him just outside the office door. "My wife is certain that this man wearing a yellow suit has something to do with Isabella's disappearance."

"And Mrs. Swan says so based on...?" He trails off, tilting his head expectantly.

He sighs slowly. "Her instincts."

"Hmm. Well, maybe you better step in here, Mr. Swan." Harry points a hand in the direction of the double doors before holding one side open for him. Upon entering the room he sees the man in the yellow suit sitting at Harry's desk. Charles and Harry exchange a brief look as the man rises and walks the short distance around the desk to where they're standing.

"Am I whom you're looking for? I do believe I fit the description." He asks lightheartedly, smiling pleasantly as he shakes Charles' hand.

"My wife said she saw you talking to my daughter." He states rigidly, taking an immediate dislike to the fellow who seems a mite too cheerful in the face of his daughter's disappearance.

"Yes, I did. She's a charming girl, full of fire. Perhaps too much. She's gone, is she?" He inquires, looking, appropriately, much more subdued.

"Looks like she...ran away." Harry replies slowly, soberly, supplying the answer to the man's question with downcast eyes.

"Did she now? Somehow I'm not surprised." He murmurs almost to himself.

"My daughter did not...run away." Charles addresses Harry uncomfortably before turning his attention to the strange man. "And I'm not interested in what surprises you, sir. I want to know if you know anything of her whereabouts."

"No, Mr. Swan. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I do not. I am quite coincidentally here in search of someone myself. I'm seeking a family that used to live in these environs. I thought the constable could help me locate them, but ironically, Mr. Swan, your daughter thought you could help." He stops shortly to remove an old military photo of Jasper from a brown leather satchel and hands it to Charles. "Name of Cullen. Long lost relatives."

"l-I can't help you." He stammers impatiently after taking a moment to review the photograph and mull over the unfamiliar surname.

"Nor I you. At least not now. However, I'd be happy to search your woods for you, Mr. Swan. I'm rather talented at finding people. I just might meet with success. Good evening, Constable." He bids quickly, leaving Charles to look after the man quizzically as he makes his exit from the office.

Turning from the door, Charles looks to Harry with both his eyes and voice exuding equal levels of intensity. "Find out what happened to her, Harry. Please. She's our only child."

**.**

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"Carlisle made that cradle." Esme begins, as she prepares a comfortable place for Bella to settle for the night, while she changes into the nightdress she loaned her. "Brought it all the way from England. Oh, it's rocked a few Cullens. There you go." She announces brightly, suspending an old quilt to the clothesline she recently hung, complete with clothespins, to serve as a temporary wall.

"The breeze off the river will keep you cool all night." She continues, opening a small window. "The boys stay up in the loft when they're home so you'll have your privacy. Oh, that corset looks painful. May I help you off with it?" Bella looks uneasy for a moment, but then acquiesces gratefully. "Oh, honestly, I can't understand why women torture themselves this way. It's no way to live." She concludes from behind her, unfastening the contraption with swift fingers.

"Do you have a daughter?" She inquires, turning her head slightly to look at Esme over her shoulder.

Esme pauses briefly before reaching for the locket that's attached to a chain around her neck. "A granddaughter. And a grandson. Anna and Beau. "She says with a smile in her voice, pointing to each in turn. "Oh, Jasper loved them so."

"What happened?" She asks softly.

"They died. Their mother, too. I'm afraid the good parts of Jasper died along with them. You'll have to forgive what's left of him." She says, giving her a gentle yet meaningful look.

"I'm sorry." Bella responds sincerely, her own heart heavier under the weight of the family's loss. She knows this new knowledge hardly excuses Jasper's behavior, but at least now she understands his bitterness a little better.

"Well, it's...it's the way things are, Miss Swan. Can I call you Bella?" Trading the somber mood for a livelier one so quickly, she surprises her guest with her unexpected chipper request. The two women grin gaily at one another as Bella nods her head, giving her permission gladly.

"Do you have brothers and sisters?" Edward hears Esme inquire of Bella, listening intently from the loft above as they continue their talk. He's being very careful to only listen with his natural ears, so as not to see anything he shouldn't.

"No, it's only me. My mother..." He sighs contentedly, and realizes he's happy just soaking in the mundane details of Bella's life. Though, he isn't entirely sure why exactly that is. This is a mystery that would alarm him, if it wasn't for the wonderful feeling emanating bone deep throughout his being.

"There." Floats Esme's voice to his waiting ears. How strange that he should be so affected by someone he only just met, he muses. Is she really all that different from other girls he's encountered? The answer immediately comes to him as a resounding: yes!

As far as he knows, she is the only person in all of creation with whom he can enjoy absolute mental peace. In her presence there isn't the faintest whisper of the goings on inside her head. A fact that – though aggravating on first discovery – is now more precious, more glorious to this particular telepath than there are words to adequately describe.

Taking a deep breath he deliberately fills his lungs with her intoxicating scent, noting that with each pull it gets a little easier. The familiar burn is still very present, but his violent response to the floral elixir coursing through her veins has, thankfully, lessened considerably.

"So where do they go?" Comes Bella's voice now, in response to something he missed while lost in thought. With renewed vigor, he attunes himself once again to the voices softly murmuring below him.

"Oh, they go different places, do different things. Jasper can do carpentry and he's good with his hands. Edward, now, he doesn't seem to have settled himself. Of course, then, he's...he's young yet. Well...I hope you will be comfortable here. It's a good feeling having another woman in the house. Try and get some sleep now."

Crossing his arms behind his head, Edward smiles and settles in for the night. Having emptied the contents of his stomach earlier that evening, he is free to savor the sound of Bella's beating heart as she slumbers.

**.**

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"Hello? Have you lost your way, friend?" The reverend with lantern in hand says to the unfamiliar man as he makes his nightly rounds.

"Not hardly, Reverend. I'm looking for a family name...Cullen. Are you familiar with it?" The man in the yellow suit inquires as he kneels in the grass reading a nearby headstone.

"Cullen. Cullen?" He looks up into the night sky as he considers, thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I can't help you. There are no Cullens in this cemetery that I know of."

"No, I wouldn't think so. Ha! Or in any other." After laughing without humor, he stands with the aid of his cane, and then sweeps it back and forth across the well manicured lawn. "Tell me, Reverend, you who have attended so many deathbeds...what is it people most desire as they face the end of their lives? More time?" He asks, advancing upon the minister to such a sinister degree, he instinctively begins backing away in retreat.

"Well, I suppose." He answers him warily. Though still quite close, he is glad the odd man has at least ceased moving forward.

"Exactly. They'd give almost anything, I imagine, for one more year. Imagine what they'd give for all eternity." He proposes, his quiet queerness all but pulling the unease from his companion.

"Sir, I don't quite understand what..."

"You will." He interjects, cutting him off with a sharp raise of his finger. "Reverend, are you prepared to die right now, this instant?"

"If it's God's will." He replies humbly.

"What if it is my will? What if you could be eternal? Right now, this instant? Without having to face the uncertainty of death? Hmm? You'd like that, wouldn't you? No muss, no fuss. Invincible to disease. Never having to suffer the stench and rot of old age. Forever young."

"You speak blasphemy, sir." He informs him at barely a whisper.

"Fluently." He says with a wide grin that grows into uncontrollable laughter. "Good night, Reverend." He bids, all at once serious. Then turning his back he walks away, tapping his cane on the headstones as he passes. Releasing that peculiar whistled melody of his as it hangs in the late evening air.

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"Hey, Bella Swan, are you asleep?" Edward whispers loudly into the quilt that stands between him and Bella's sleeping form. Pale, blue-grey light is just beginning to fill the room, save for a few dark corners. And the song of the morning birds as they sing sweetly to one another drifts in through the small open window.

"Not anymore." She answers groggily to the quilt, sitting up slowly in her little borrowed bed.

"Good. Hey. Listen. How would you like to see the Eiffel Tower?" He whispers again, only with much more enthusiasm than before, now that she's awake.

"What? Someday." She scoffs dismissively, and then lowers her head to the pillow with the full intention of succumbing to unconsciousness once again.

"No, now. While the day is still ours." He says the latter with the sweetest intensity, thoroughly and incurably piquing her curiosity. His lips twist into a crooked smile as he hears the unmistakable sound of her body leaving the mattress.

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"Get those dogs over there." Harry orders his nearest man, in the height of organizing the massive search party.

"Yes, sir. Come on, boys, let's go." After receiving Harry's latest instructions, the men overseeing the canines begin rallying the hounds, while the other men hasten to their respective positions.

"Harry, this is Isabella's nightgown. Give it to the dog handlers. Start in the north end. Let's split up when we get to the river." Charles directs as he hands the gown his daughter wore the previous night to Harry.

"We'll find her." Harry asserts, clapping Charles affectionately on the shoulder.

"I know we will." Charles claps back, nodding his head once before they head into the forest.

Every able bodied man in the town of Forks is present in the woods. Some on horseback. Some on foot. Some following anxiously behind dogs with noses to the ground. Each one more than willing to contend with twisted roots and tangled vines, thick brushes and cumbersome leaves – if it will mean Bella's safe return.

Taking full advantage of the daylight they spread out, filling all of the surrounding woodland with the sound of their strong, tireless voices.

"Isabella!"

"Miss Swan!"

"Bella!"

"Isabella Swan!"

"Miss Swan!"

"Isabella!"

As Harry Clearwater carefully sweeps the low-lying branches with his eyes, something captures his attention. Freeing the object from where it's been caught, he turns it over slowly in his hands.

It's severely torn and damp, but he recognizes the piece of white lacy fabric as something similar to a garment his own daughter would wear. Without delay he brings his bullhorn to his lips.

"Over here! I found something!"


	9. Exploring

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**8. Exploring**

Making quick work over a well-known path – she, panting moderately, and, he, pretending to – Edward ushers Bella toward their destination. Ever mindful of her human frailties, he gently raises her over hidden obstacles in her way.

He carefully calculates the amount of pressure he should apply, each time he brings his crystalline hand into contact with her tender flesh and brittle bones. _Like silk stretched over glass_, he muses to himself as he lightly lays his hand on her back to aid her up a steady incline.

Stopping once the ground flattens out again beneath them, he gestures with one hand indicating their approaching goal.

"There it is." Edward declares as they stand at the foot of the tallest rock formation that Bella has ever seen. It also happens to be the first that she has ever seen – and what a sight it is.

The tower consists of magnificent silver-grey boulders, stacked one atop the other, with the largest stones at the base. They then stagger impressively upwards, growing progressively smaller until a single stony peak reaches just beyond the canopy of trees to kiss the cloudy sky.

"This is the Eiffel Tower?" She asks thoroughly amused. But as she turns her head to look at his profile beside her, amusement is swept to the wayside by the fluttering of about a million butterflies. Her heart rate quickens and it's suddenly difficult to tell which form is the more breathtaking.

"The one in Paris, it's pretty tall." He says lackadaisically with a shrug of his perfectly squared shoulders as he gazes upward. Then turning fully to face her he says, "Mine's two feet higher," causing a tiny gasp to escape from her mouth. "Here. Come on." He says, offering his hand as they begin their climb up the first set of boulders. Unaware that he – not his rock tower – is the true catalyst for her hammering heart and sharp intake of breath.

"Have you really seen the real one in Paris?" She inquires, finding a new placement for her hands as she pulls herself upwards.

"Yes, I have. And climbed 1,652 stairs to the top. Much easier than this." He answers cheerfully, feigning a grunt as he hoists himself over a particularly steep point.

"Yes." She agrees easily, huffing softly as she struggles to lift herself over the same point.

"Are you doing all right?" He queries concernedly, he can only imagine how difficult this must be for a human.

"I think so." She replies merrily, happy to discover she is keeping up with him nicely as she finds her footing.

"You're doing great." He says encouragingly, undisguised admiration caressing each word. _She really is doing wonderfully_ he thinks, then offers aloud, "Here." As he takes her hand in his and pulls her up to the next boulder.

A light sheen of sweat begins to coat her skin as they continue, amplifying her fragrance and overwhelming his senses. What was a constant simmering heat at the back of his throat bursts into a full on flame, providing the burn that his immortal limbs cannot as he climbs.

He swallows back the venom that starts to pool on his tongue, a little shaken by the sudden onslaught, but still in complete control. _Easier all the time_ he thinks triumphantly to himself.

"If I went to the Eiffel Tower I would take one of those elevators." She announces slightly winded as they walk the small shelf leading to the next tier of rocks.

"Not with me you wouldn't. You'd take off your shoes and walk up every single solitary step." He informs her jovially, falling in line behind her as the passage between the crags becomes narrower. Leaving them to climb quite closely together for the duration, limbs gently grazing periodically; each reeling from the others proximity and scent.

His is surprisingly sweet and delicious she notes as it causes her mouth to water – the excess of which overflows and dribbles down her lip. Mortified, she quickly comprehends the fact that, with her hands very necessarily grasping stone, she's unable to catch her saliva as it makes its way to her chin. Turning away with haste she anxiously rubs her chin against her shoulder.

"How old are you?" She asks as a means of distraction, hoping to high heaven that if indeed there was much spittle, it went beyond his notice. Unfortunately for her – or, most fortunately in her easily shamed case – she's unaware that there is precious little in this world that escapes Edward Cullen's notice.

"Do you really want to know?" He queries with a quizzical brow, more than a little concerned for a moment to find her literally foaming at the mouth.

"Yes." She affirms turning to face him again, quite confident that she's removed any trace of her previous oral malfunction. Now, if only there was something to be done about her ever traitorous blush…

"108." He answers her honestly, knowing there is veritably no chance that she'll actually think him truthful.

"I'm serious." She replies predictably and he coughs forcefully in order to mask the laughter threatening to erupt from his chest.

"So am I." He breathes under his breath as he smiles bewitchingly at her. "Let's just call it 17." He compromises, returning his attention to the task at hand. They continue to clamber and climb their way up the side of the mountainous formation. Passing high wispy leaves painted delicately against a backdrop of cumulus clouds, and sleepy eagles in their nests, blanketing their young with their massive wings. Until finally, they arrive at the top.

"There's my Paris." He sighs obviously enchanted, spreading his arms in front of him, across the rolling green tree tops of the forest, clustered so closely together, they resemble jade waves moving gently in the invisible current. The vast emerald sea extends majestically from where they stand straight out in front of them to the distant skyline.

And the sky! Never had it been so very near to Bella. The clouds seemed to sail by almost on top of her, revealing brilliant patches of blue every now and again as they slowly chased each other across the celestial sphere.

"The view from the Eiffel Tower can't be better than this." She decides as she rises up on her tip toes in a fruitless effort to touch the floating nimbus ceiling overhead.

"I've seen a lot of views, and this is one of the best." He murmurs as he shifts his eyes from one natural beauty, to the other standing beside him. Thinking the sight of her in his favorite place, flushed faintly pink under a cover of misty sliver clouds was the best he'd seen yet.

Indeed, the day was theirs – just as Edward had said it was. And the exploring continued well after their trip to his Eiffel Tower.

She observed Esme's kitchen; the seemingly endless jars of colorful canned goods that represented hours of baking.

She looked on curiously as Carlisle whittled away on a slab of wood, with his earlier handiwork, a lovely wooden angel with its wings spread wide, sitting nearby. As he carves, she imagines what this new piece might become.

"Come on." Edward urges her, leading her by the hand into the nearby open field, where they skip and jump amid the waist high green and gold colored grasses. Whooping and laughing as the wind-blown stalks tickle against their ribs.

Edward shushes her suddenly, when his keen eyes spot a fawn walking ahead of them. He keeps his distance, not wanting it to sense what he is and scare it away, but guides her gently forward. She slowly lowers herself to the ground, and then with an open hand waits patiently.

The little fawn ambles trustingly up to her, ending in her lap, where she loving strokes the soft caramel brown and tiny white speckles of his fur.

She later watches Esme vigorously scrubbing clothes on a large boulder seated beneath a small waterfall. Fascinated, she lingers as she adds more suds by rubbing a bar of homemade soap in her hands under the flowing cascade. Afterwards, she carefully hangs each article of clothing on the line to dry.

She moves on to peeling potatoes on the dock, humming sweetly to herself to the tune of the Sol Duc River as it passes by. When she finishes she takes them into the kitchen, cutting them into chunks and setting them in a bowl of water in preparation for a stew she'll later can.

It isn't long before Edward is at her side again, whisking her away to the river's shallows. Running hand-in-hand in the low stream they kick and splash; feeling so high in the other's company as they pick up speed, they aren't entirely sure they're not flying.

_ Bella Swan was beginning_ _to lose track of time. _ _Had she been there a day, a week, a month? It seemed to Bella_ _that the Cullens lived in a way_ _the rest of the world_ _had forgotten. They were never in a hurry_ _and did things the slow way. For the first time_ _Bella felt free to explore, to ask questions, to play. _

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Away from the thrill of new found discoveries, the old world Bella knew continues on. Her mother still plays the piano forte beautifully; although the instrument reverberates with the sound of far more melancholy measures in these latter days.

The authorities, along with the local men from every household, comb the forest. Man and beast run side by side in the river, leaping over and ducking under fallen logs in their path. Their hearts set on a single purpose, losing not even the smallest amount of zeal in their endeavor. Though weary, they will not rest until what is lost has been found.

And the man in the yellow suit also gives pursuit; sniffing leaves in the palm of his hand. Checking his compass as he looks skyward to discern how much light remains of the day. He, likewise, is willing to forgo sleep…until what he seeks is well within his reach.


	10. Weightless

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**9. Weightless**

Sol Duc Falls, the majestic fountain, pours its crystal clear liquid tranquility beneath Edward and Bella's feet. Balancing most carefully, she stretches her arms out at her sides as he guides her across the massive log which stands as their only bridge to the other side.

He grips her securely from behind, one hand on either side of her waist, gently steadying her with his perfect poise whenever she falters. As they reach the opposite end, they climb down to the surface of a large stone cliff, hovering directly over the pool situated at the base of the falls.

Taking a seat thereon, they converse cordially over the sound of the soothing waters as they flow into the basin below.

"Me? Edward begins as he loosens the top of his trousers. "I'm going to see the world. Every speck of it. I may even discover some new continents while I'm at it. I mean, I've been to a lot of places but the world is gargantuan!" He exclaims as he stands, letting his trousers fall into a puddle at his feet before stepping out of them.

Automatically, she follows the snug-fitting fabric of his white long johns with her eyes, from his ankles up to the hem of his shirt, where it hangs loosely at the top of his markedly masculine thighs.

"Edward Cullen, what-what are you doing?" She squeaks in her surprise, her heart taking flight as he pulls his shirt over his head, exposing the pleasantly defined musculature of his ivory chest and stomach. With his southern hemisphere positioned at her exact eye level, she can just make out the shape of his slumbering manhood lying dormant behind the strained fibers of his undergarment.

As Bella's eyes grow wide watching him, so does her unease. She knows it's very impolite not to look at a person when they're addressing you. But, in his current state of _undress_ she isn't sure what to do with her eyes. Eyes that, if she's being quite honest – and, as a terrible liar she almost always is – are full of the wanting to drink him in all at once.

"What does it look like? He asks rhetorically, perplexed by her question and the sudden pounding of her heart. Misunderstanding her reaction, he wonders if she doesn't suffer from some acute nervous condition as he crouches low and inches to the edge of the cliff. Then rising slowly to his full height, he leaps off and splashes into the plunge pool below. Bella scrambles to the edge anxious to see what's become of him.

"Come on!" He calls up to her from the water, beckoning with a few quick flicks of his hand.

"I can't!" She hollers back, shaking her head adamantly from side to side.

"Why? You're not afraid of a little cold water, are you?" He queries as he laughs heartily, concurrently bobbing and smirking.

"No." Comes her quick and petulant reply.

"Are you afraid of_ me_?" He asks, slightly worried. It isn't as if he hadn't given her reason enough to fear him since they're initial meeting.

"No." She answers definitively.

"Well, what then?" He inquires, shrugging deeply as he treads water, truly bewildered by her hesitance.

"I can't swim." She admits reluctantly through pursed lips.

"You're kidding me." He says incredulously, rising partially out of the water in his buoyant unbelief.

"I wish I were." She responds flatly.

"So, you're afraid you'll drown, right? Swallow too much water, sink to the bottom and _die_!" He shouts mockingly, placing an exorbitant amount of emphasis on the word "die."

"Thank you for putting it so vividly. And, yes, considering I'd sink like a rock drowning is a fair concern." She retorts, somewhat annoyed by his facetiousness.

"Well, I guess I'm just going to have to enjoy this all by myself." He announces with mock resignation. He then proceeds to float leisurely on the surface of the water making the most exaggerated, contented humming noises she's ever heard.

As she takes in the ridiculous grin plastered across his angelic face, she realizes he has just issued her a none-too-subtle challenge – one that she fully intends to accept. Without so much as a word, she reaches to the back of her collar and unfastens the buttons located there.

With his eyes closed, Edward does not see but rather hears the imperceptible rustling of fabric as her dress falls away from her body. Opening his eyes he beams joyously in anticipation as he waits to receive her.

She hesitates on the cliff's edge for a short time. As he continues gazing up at her, his smile fades into awe and an unfamiliar longing. With labored breaths he takes in the alluring dips and valleys of her feminine curves afforded him through the sheer, barely there fabric of her slip.

Without his permission, his eyes slip down her frame to the contrasting dark bed of hairs resting between her cream-colored thighs. With his vampiric vision, the thin material may as well not exist at all as each individual fine-as-silk follicle lays on full display. Feeling like he's taking advantage of her with his heightened senses, he averts his eyes.

As he does so, something between a low growl and a moan rises out of him, which he quickly cuts off with a sputtering cough, as he pretends to accidently take on water through his nose. She balances precariously on the edge for a moment longer, and then shuts her eyes as she jumps into the air, screaming all the way down to the water below.

She enters the pool a few feet in front of him, sinking immediately beneath the surface with a splash.

"Edward!" She yells frantically as she emerges from the depths, eyes screwed shut groping blindly all around her for his hand.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He says comfortingly as he swiftly swims the short distance between them. "Come here, come here, come here." He coos tenderly as he gathers her in the bridal fashion into his arms, grateful that the somewhat warmer water has brought his icy skin to a more hospitable temperature. "I've got you, I've got you. I've got you, relax. Relax against me. Are you all right?"

"I think so." She pants, beaming brightly despite the fact that she's woefully winded, thrilled to find herself safely in the center of his embrace.

"Whoo! You did it!" He exclaims as he proceeds to turn them in slow circles.

"I did it!" She echoes proudly. "Ah, it feels wonderful. I'm weightless." She says quietly, her voice wispy with wonder.

"That's because we're carrying you, see? The water and me. We're both carrying you. Do you like the feeling?" He queries, fixing her with the fondest expression, cherishing the feel of her in his arms.

"I love it." She admits readily, feeling more graceful than she's ever felt as he continues to twirl them around and around. "Edward, don't let go!" She shouts clinging to him fiercely, panicking as she feels herself shifting away from him infinitesimally.

"It's okay, it's okay." He quickly reassures, pulling her even closer to him. Then, with the most unfathomable look in his eyes, he says, "There's no chance of that, Bella Swan. I'm never going to let you go."

Sweet, exhilarating warmth encompasses her person at his words and spreads slow as honey into him. They close their eyes against the inebriating feeling, bringing their heads closer together. Resting temple to temple, they hold each other there as they circle ever so slowly in front of the falls.

With her trust solidified she releases him, and lays herself down on the surface of the water. Her arms wave peaceably above her head and back down to her sides as Edward continues to turn them in leisurely circles. He looks on her adoringly as she floats without care or concern, supported by his tireless limbs.

They remain just that way for a while, Bella watching the overcast sky go by – and Edward watching her. Sitting up again suddenly she returns to his embrace and he marvels at how soft she is in his hold, for all that he is hard.

Inhaling one another deeply, finding the other's scent delectably enhanced by the water around them, they continue their languid aquatic dance. And all the while as they softly rotate in the water, he doesn't let her go…nor does she want him to.

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The sun sets like a slow moving disk as it sinks into the horizon, glowing brightly behind a fine curtain of clouds until it disappears entirely from sight. While down below, amid raucous laughter and honky-tonk music, strong drink and suffocating smoke, a restless Jasper exchanges the predictability of the Cullen's table for the perils of the poker table.

"You know, I don't like being laughed at by a cheat." The strange man says in response to Jasper's low snickers as he collects his winnings from the center of the table.

"Now "cheat" is a nasty word, sir. I much prefer "card sharp." He replies, instantly sober and intense as he splits the deck; and reveals first the 6 of hearts and then the ace.

"You are looking for trouble, aren't you, mister?" The stranger challenges; raising his voice as he rises from his chair, leaning and glowering over the table at him.

"Yes, sir, I sure am." He affirms with a wild look in his eyes as he sets down his drink in preparation for a fight.

"Going outside! Come on!" The bar keep yells as he hoists Jasper up by his underarms and begins dragging him across the saloon.

"Perhaps next time..." The man in the yellow suit trails off, as he turns curiously from his current conversation to observe the sudden commotion.

"Come on! He can't hurt me!" Jasper vehemently goads the stranger from the table as he, also, is retrained.

"Whoo!" The patrons of the saloon whoop and laugh together as Jasper is thrown most unceremoniously onto his backside in the middle of the dusty road.

"Thank you. Thank you very much." He says sarcastically after righting himself, as his coat and hat are likewise tossed and join him in the street. Gathering his personal effects, he turns and storms off into the night.

"Excuse me, citizen." The man in the yellow hat says as he passes the bar keep on his way out. Standing in front of the local watering hole, he looks on with a wicked grin as he closely watches Jasper's departure.


	11. The Truth

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**10. The Truth**

Finally among the company of trees as she has so longed to be, Bella inhales deeply of the rich woodsy aroma of the forest. As she listens to the sound of an owl hooting on the wind, Edward returns with the firewood he set out in search of.

Adding it to the flames he reserves one "too small" stick in his hand, as he admires the tempting vision that is Bella in the woods at night. The light of the fire flickers across her skin, causing her eyes to shine in such a way, his silent heart would surely skip a beat if it could.

There's a subtle softness about her that wasn't there previously; likely due to the way her deep mahogany tresses hang so full and voluptuous around her. As opposed to being pulled back, such as it was, before their swim.

"You hear that?" He asks as the sorrowful sound of a bird screeching fills the air. He climbs onto a rock and goes as still as a statue. "Carlisle says it's the most melancholy sound in all of nature. Listen. Just listen. They're playing for you." He says, as the forest rings forth in a cacophony of bird sounds.

Bella begins softly swaying her hips to their song and Edward, enjoying very much the way she moves, drums an upbeat rhythm with the small stick into the rock he's sitting on with one hand. And with the other he pats a complimentary tempo on his thigh.

This persuades her to move with more enthusiasm; twirling and whirling like a beautiful, exotic gypsy with her waist-length natural waves – no longer confined to the single braid she always wore – flowing freely all around her.

Her fitted slip clings to her every curve, save for the last several inches starting at her lower thighs, where it fans out in a flurry of white ruffles whenever she spins. Truly mesmerized, Edward can't take his eyes off her and he's convinced she's the most exquisite creature he has ever seen.

"Whoo! Yeah!" He encourages as she comes into her performance in earnest; pushing off rocks as she pirouettes in midair and incorporating fast and fancy footwork.

Abandoning the rock, he joins her in the dance, and, taking hold of her waist, they spin. Seeing that she's growing tired, he winds things down gradually until there's nothing more than the call of the birds once again.

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Unbeknownst to the others occupying the woods this night; silently, slowly, the man in the yellow suit makes his way through the forest. Following from a trained distance his unlikely guide…

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Edward lowers himself to the ground and reclines against a tree. In front of the fire with his bare feet near the flame, the heat quickly spreads throughout his body. In the short time allotted, it does not serve to warm him per se, but it does remove the inhuman chill from his skin.

He looks so inviting with his other worldly features all aglow, that Bella soon joins him. Laying her head upon his chest, she lazily drapes her arm across his stomach and wonders what it is that makes his flesh so hard. _Like marble_ she marvels as she runs her finger in slow circles around his belly button.

"I wish this moment could last forever." She confesses in a dreamy, smiling tone; savoring the weight of his arm around her shoulders. He absently traces designs onto her exposed flesh, giving her goose bumps, though she isn't the least bit cold.

"Forever? You want to spend forever with me, Bella?" He asks softly, resting his cheek on the top of her head as he waits with bated breath for her answer.

"I do." She sighs dreamily as her heart begins to beat faster, and, suddenly, he realizes that _he_ may well have been the cause of these puzzling palpitations all along. The thought leaves him smiling like a fool, though he doesn't feel the least bit foolish.

"You know, we could see the world together. We could do everything together. Have a million moments like this one that...never, never stop." He pauses briefly before he continues. "There's a part about us you don't know...the part I've sworn not to tell you."

"The secret?" She inquires excitedly, sitting up and looking him full in the face. "The reason you don't want anyone to find out about you? I know what you are. You're... you're bank robbers or grifters, aren't you?"

He flashes her a crooked smile, truly amused by her overactive imagination. He silently wonders if that same penchant for imagining is what will allow her to accept him. That is, if she accepts him at all.

"You are the first human I've ever met I wanted to know the truth." He declares, looking so intently into her eyes she trembles a little inside.

"Edward Cullen, you're the first human I've ever met that I've ever wanted to...to..." She leans across the small space between them and presses her lips to his. Overwhelmed by the cool, sweetness of him as his breath passes over her tongue, she moans softly and completely gives herself over to the kiss.

For his part, he is unresponsive at first, adapting to the excruciating burn that seizes his throat. But then, he very hesitantly begins to move his marble lips against hers, as her all encompassing floral warmth bombards his system in the sweetest invasion. It does nothing to dull the painful burn he feels, but, somehow merges with it so that even the pain is welcome.

"To do that." She breathes pulling away, dazed by the scent of him still swimming in her head and the new, highly concentrated essence of him that now lingers on her lips.

He blinks a few times, as if trying to process what has just transpired between them, and then wordlessly leans in for another taste of what he deems as heaven on earth. This kiss is deeper, more passionate than before as she opens for him and he caresses her tongue with his.

He grips the back of her head in his hand, all the while being mindful of his strength, as she likewise clings to his upper arm. Desire boils and spills over, like too much molasses in a sauce pan, easing up and over the rim at an unhurried pace.

Finding it difficult to concentrate on reigning in his strength, he withdraws from their embrace and offers her a shy smile. He swallows hard, ridding his mouth of the excess venom and takes an unnecessary breath; steeling himself as he prepares to do the thing he has never done.

"Bella, listen. Remember the giant madrone tree at the center of the wood where we met? The little spring bubbling up you thought you saw me drink from? You remember when I told you I was 108 years old?" To each of these questions she simply nods her head and smiles cheerfully at him. "Well...it's the honest truth. I'm going to live forever. I'm never going to change."

Initially, she only smirks at him, clearly doubting his words. But as he continues to sit there wearing the same sober expression, her smile diminishes and is replaced with a serious countenance of her own.

"It's the same with Jasper and Carlisle and Esme." He continues, whispering. "Something happened to us. And as far as I know, I'm...I'm going to be 17 until the end of the world. The water, something's wrong with it. It stops you right where you are."

"If you had a drink of it today, you'd stay just like you are. But for me, Carlisle and Esme, that wasn't the source of our immortality. It all started with Carlisle, Bella. He found me in a hospital in the summer of 1825. I was seventeen and dying of the Spanish influenza. He saved me."

"How did he save you?" She queries thoroughly intrigued, deducing from the way in which he said it, that this was accomplished in a most unusual way.

"He introduced a very rare, very potent substance into my bloodstream. A few years later he found Esme as she lay dying and administered it to her as well. This substance, it not only prolongs life; it stops you right where you are. If this substance entered your bloodstream today, in three days time you'd stay just as you are. Forever."

"What is this substance?" She asks in amazement, utterly thrilled and dumbfounded to hear that such a thing exists.

"Venom." He begins, slowly, deliberately, and then hesitates a moment longer before he continues. "More specifically, vampiric venom." He looks to her apprehensively as he gages her reaction.

"Vampiric…as in v-vampire?" She stammers, but only out of shock and human habit, because, no matter how much she knows she ought to be afraid, she just can't bring herself to fear Edward.

"Yes, Bella, we're vampires. But, we're different from others of our kind. We consider ourselves to be vegetarian because we only survive on the blood of animals." He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by the snapping of a twig in the distance.

Edward reaches out with his mind and sighs as he realizes they are no longer alone. Hearing his brother's annoyed exhalation, Jasper sprints at full speed to their location, appearing so suddenly he startles Bella.

"Don't you wish he'd told you..._before_ you kissed him? Did he tell you immortality isn't all the preachers crack it up to be?" He drawls darkly, advancing slowly on the two young lover's position.

"Leave her alone, Jasper." Edward warns sternly, absolutely livid that he would dare to interfere this way.

"Oh, now...you want her to hear it, Eddie boy. She's the first person you want to tell the truth to." He says as he laughs humorlessly, cruelly mimicking his private confession from earlier, which, apparently, wasn't so private after all.

"You just don't want me to have what you lost." He replies calmly, instantly regretting the look of agony that flashes across his brother's face. As wave upon wave of his acidic emotions weighs heavily in the atmosphere and is absorbed into them.

"Stop this...both of you and tell me the truth. I want to know." Bella cries sullenly, though she little knows why she is suddenly so sad. However, as certain as a cloudy day in Forks, she very shortly shall.


	12. Jasper Remembers

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**11. Jasper Remembers**

Jasper nods his head a few times in compliance with Bella's request to know the truth. He comes a little closer to the fire, and, taking a deep breath, he begins the act of remembering events he's worked so hard to forget.

"Esme found me all alone in the woods when I was 8…with no memory…clutching a tiny silver music box. She raised me as her own. Can you imagine; a _human_ growing up in a house full of _vampires_?"

"But, Carlisle and Esme are the best parents a child could ever ask for. And Edward is the perfect little _older_ brother. I grew up happy and so well loved. We went looking for a new home in my 25th year; that's when we came upon the spring."

Edward watches the memory of that fateful day unfurl in Jasper's mind. It's hazy because his brother was still human at the time and so he superimposes his flawless vampiric memory on top of it. Adding depth and crystal clarity where there was only murky dullness.

He sees himself and Carlisle staring up into the leafy heights of the biggest, tallest tree they'd ever seen, as Esme hovers over the little spring. _Such a tiny little thing_ he remembers thinking.

"All the mortals had a drink...except for the cat...that's important. The water tasted like...Heaven. Floated over your tongue like a cloud. Carlisle carved the Cullen family crest into the trunk, to mark where we'd been."

The image of Edward helping Carlisle choose the perfect spot for the carving appears. It's so vivid he can almost feel the heat and humidity of that summer's day on his skin. He can't help but smile a little as he watches his adoptive father, with the skill of a master craftsman, fashion the crest that is still there to this day.

"We moved on west, still looking for a place to settle down. Put up a house for Esme and Carlisle and a little shed for Edward and me. That was the first time we figured there was something..." He shakes his head and chuckles humorlessly to himself. "Peculiar."

"I fell 30 feet, landed right on my neck. I was up on my feet again before Esme could work up a good scream. Didn't hurt me a bit. No broken bones...nothing. That's not all. Not by a long shot."

"Things began to happen. Some brushpoppers mistook Esme's horse for a deer. Thing is, the bullets didn't kill him. Barely even left a mark. Then I got bitten by a rattlesnake, and you know what? I didn't die. But the cat did…of old age." He laughs again, but it is an acerbic, hollow sound.

"And Jasper got married." An instantaneous image of walking hand-in-hand through a field with a beautiful brunette flashes and fades. He pauses a long time, twisting the gold band on his finger that in all these years he's never been able to remove. His eyes burn with the sting of tears he can no longer shed before he continues.

"Beau." He whispers with bittersweet nostalgia, as the sight of his son as a toddler is reborn. In his thoughts, he picks him up and tosses him in the air as he laughs his little boy laugh. He smiles weakly through the hurt of the memory as it gives way to the next…

"Little Anna." He breathes as he watches his daughter climb into the family wagon, only to launch herself into a neighboring haystack. _That girl always was a little daredevil_ he remembers fondly.

"Carlisle figured it out early on. It's the spring. With the exception of the cat, all the non vampires drank from it, even the horse. Had to be...the source of our changelessness."

The image of a family picnic floats to the surface, one in which his wife barely eats as she notices the unchanging nature of the people around her. Beau, Anna and herself included are all older – but the Cullens look _exactly_ the same as the very first day she met them. Her suspicions quickly multiplied from that point on.

"I begged her to come back...for me and find the spring and drink from it. The children, too. It was our only hope to be together. She made up her mind I'd sold my soul to the Devil...and she left me. She took my babies with her."

He blanches as the vision of the day his wife left fills his head. The look on her face as she glanced back at him still cuts him to the quick. His helplessness returning in full fervor as he watches himself watch them drive away.

The dust from the departing wagon irritated his eyes something fierce, but he wouldn't look away until he could see them no more. He turns his face away from Edward and Bella then, unable to continue looking at them as the pain overtakes him.

"Everyone...pulled away after that. There was talk of witchcraft...black magic."

Dozens of men on horses baring torches ride up to the Cullen home at night. Edward winces as the horrible image of their home engulfed in flames takes hold. They could still see the immense fireball as they made their escape into the woods.

"I went looking for wars to fight...and met a certain immortal named, Maria. But, having lived with Carlisle for so long I couldn't condone her murderous lifestyle." The visage of an exotic dark-haired Spaniard with fiery red eyes emerges briefly, but Jasper quickly shakes it away. "We soon parted company and I resumed my war mongering."

"I saw brave men die at Vera Cruz...and then Gettysburg...thousands, in the blink of an eye...but not me. I couldn't die...like little Anna. The influenza took her before she was 15. And Beau. He'd be almost 80 now if he were still alive."

"And my sweet...my sweet young bride. Alice. She died in an insane asylum...old and alone. But I'm still here. I'm still here." His voice breaks off into a strangled cry as his body is racked with tearless sobs.

The night has grown impossibly colder listening to Jasper recount these tragic events; though the fire burns bright as ever. Edward holds a devastated and shaken Bella tightly against his own trembling body, as she wets his shirt with her tears.

She cries hard for herself and for the Cullens. But she cries the hardest for Jasper; the torturous, heartbroken tears that he cannot.


	13. Rocks Stuck at the Side of the Stream

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**12. "Rocks Stuck at the Side of the Stream."**

The sun rises, bringing with it light and warmth in its golden wings as it soars ever higher in the sky. Even as it does so, there remain pockets of shadow that are yet untouched by the breaking dawn. It is from within these dwindling shadows that the man in the yellow suit does watch and wait.

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Leaving the misery of the night behind them, Edward, Bella and Jasper make a slow and steady trail towards home. Passing the river as it passes them, it's shimmering waters bejeweled with drops of diamond sunlight.

The ducks float in groups of two, nestling against their partners contentedly. And Edward, who, like them, is happy to have found his mate, lightly squeezes Bella's hand as it rests in his. Like clockwork her pulse quickens, throbbing madly between their palms and interlaced fingers.

He hums low in his throat, delighted by the affect he has on her. She squeezes back as the loveliest blush blooms on her cheeks. They continue to give each other these little embraces as they walk, which are alternately soft and firm, and occasionally occurring at the exact same time.

Neither dares to look at the other, but both are left thrilling in the shared, secret sensations this seemingly small gesture affords.

_You do know I can feel that, right?_ Jasper inconveniently informs his newly enamored brother in his mind.

"Feel what?" Edward hisses in a voice too quiet for Bella's human ears to hear.

_You're both far too aroused for two people who are just holding hands._ Jasper snickers teasingly.

"We are? I mean, I know _I_ am, but…_she_ is?" He asks feeling altogether awestruck and quite pleased with himself.

_Terribly so. Now would you let go of her hand and give your empathic brother a break?_ He beseeches playfully, fully expecting the denial of his request.

"Not a chance." He chuckles. "Perhaps you should reduce your steps and allow us to gain a proper distance from you." He finishes, thoroughly satisfied for having formulated such a helpful and mutually beneficial alternative.

_At this point,_ _it would be far more accurate to say an_ improper distance. He murmurs mentally in that slow southern drawl of his, as he reduces his already tortoise-like pace to that of a snail's.

To this Edward offers no audible response, but smoothly reapplies pressure to the hand held securely in his. He strokes her skin ever so softly with his thumb, reveling in her equally soft sigh and the deliriously pleasant warmth.

And as the house comes into view they do not let go; not even as they come around the bend to find Carlisle and Esme waiting just off the porch for them.

Jasper stops short to tie the horse to a tree as Edward and Bella proceed to meet them where they stand. Carlisle closely observes their clasped hands hanging between them before he speaks.

"Bella Swan, you're the only other person in the world who knows about us. We'll have to have a talk." He says soberly as he removes her hand from Edward's, and takes it in his own.

"Carlisle." Edward whispers pleadingly, but he does not answer him a word as he leads her away. He absently takes a few steps after them before he catches himself, stopping to stare longingly at her retreating form as she stares longingly back.

Jasper approaches the spot where his brother stands looking so forlorn and places his hand on his shoulder. He presses firmly in a show of brotherly affection and Edward relaxes under his reassuring grip, grateful for the comfort and strength it provides.

Carlisle walks Bella down to the dock, where he helps her into his little rowboat and paddles them out toward the middle of the river. He rows quietly for a long time, just taking in the summer loveliness of nature all around them.

The cool breeze coming off the river that blows the leaves in the trees and whips his hair so gently about his head; the melodic song birds whose voices join together in a sweet symphony of sounds. And then he looks to the pretty human girl sitting across from him, who has captured the heart of his son, and still has so much living to do.

"Look around you." He begins in a breathy whisper. "It's teeming life. It's flowers and trees and frogs. It's...it's all part of the wheel. It's always changing; it's always growing like you, Bella. Your life is never the same. You were once a child. Now, you are about to become a woman."

"One day, you'll grow up and you'll do something important. You'll have children, maybe, and then one day you'll go out...just like the flame of a candle. You'll make way for new life. That's a certainty. That's the natural way of things."

"And then, there's us. What we Cullens have, you can't call it living. We just...are. We're like rocks, stuck at the side of the stream. Listen to me. Bella, you know two dangerous secrets. If people find out about the existence of vampires, it would mean the end of the world for them."

"They'd be in grave danger from a far more fearsome foe than all of us Cullens combined. You see, it is forbidden for humans to know of our kind and the punishment for this infraction is death. The Volturi, the creators and enforcers of justice in our world, are merciless, bloodthirsty killers of men; they're justice would be swift and thorough."

"And if people find out about the spring they'll trample all over each other to get to that water. There's one thing I've learned about people. Many will do anything, _anything_ not to die and they'll do anything to keep from living their life."

He gives a short sigh and looks her intently in the eyes. "Do you want to stay stuck as you are right now, forever? I've just got to make you understand."

"I don't want to die. Is that wrong?" She asks as fresh moisture glistens in her eyes; overwhelmed by the colossal size and seriousness of the conversation.

"No." He breathes tenderly as he smiles. "No human does...but i-it's part of the wheel...the same as being born. You can't have living without dying. Don't be afraid of death, Bella. Be afraid of the unlived life."

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As Carlisle and Bella rock gently along the river's quiet current, with binoculars in hand, the man in the yellow suit sets them in his sights. There is a wheel of a very different kind turning and turning in the mind of this man. And the longer he watches them, the faster it does turn.


	14. An Offer Is Made

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**13. An Offer Is Made**

The dawning of a new day causes a deepening sense of heartache and despair to arise within Mr. and Mrs. Swan. Though the search party continues to put forth a valiant effort, there yet remains no trace of their dear Isabella. Save for the tattered patch of her dress which Charles has given a permanent residence inside his pocket.

His hand never leaves that pocket as he is compelled to touch the frail fabric continuously to comfort himself, thinking if this small piece of her was able to survive out there, then so could she. As he feels the delicate lace patterns between his fingertips, a vision of his daughter smiling and waving as she crosses the yard to greet him wafts through his mind.

He can't help thinking she looks just like an angel dressed in white with the afternoon sun shining brightly behind her, bathing her from head to toe in a soft, ethereal glow. A knock at the door causes the vision to vanish, sending Charles careening into the present.

A moment later the butler announces that there is a man in a yellow suit claiming to have information on Isabella's whereabouts in the foyer. He instructs him to show the man to the sitting room as he hurries out to the rose garden to gather his wife.

"Your tea, sir." The Swan's maid says as she sets the steaming hot beverage on a small end table beside their visitor.

Reaching for it, he places it genteelly on his lap before he speaks. "She's with them now. I came directly here, knowing how tormented you must be."

Charles, overcome with relief that his daughter's been discovered, clasps his wife's hand so forcefully an audible slapping sound is followed by the action.

"We-we just want her back safely." He asserts in a voice warbling with emotion. He strokes his thumb lovingly across the back of his wife's hand; soothing the ache that he knows is there though she has yet to make a sound.

"Course you do. Dreadful business, kidnapping. Fortunate I was witness. I'm perhaps the only person...who knows where to find her." He informs stoically, blowing his tea gingerly before bringing it to his lips for a taste.

The Swan's look to each other briefly, the recognition is clear in their eyes that their uninvited caller harbors a dastardly agenda.

"Just what is your game, sir?" Charles inquires slowly, his voice soft with forced calm.

"What is my game? You detect in me a _playful_ mood?" The man in the yellow suit asks, furrowing his brow in a pretentious show of confusion.

""Playful" is not the word I had in mind." Charles replies sternly, hardly fooled by the man's play at innocence. He communicates with a look that he should get on with his nefarious business.

"What I have in mind is a simple, clear-cut trade. You see, I very much like your woods not for their timber, mind you, but for their natural assets." He says blithely, smiling cunningly in their distressed faces.

"Wh-What is it you want?" Charles stammers under the strain of the herculean effort he's employing simply to remain at ease in his chair and not at the man's throat.

"_You_ want your daughter. I want your woods." He states in an eerie, business-like manner, as though he were negotiating a simple transaction, and not attempting to extort land from two parents under duress while using the whereabouts of their missing daughter as leverage.

"You're involved in this, aren't you? If you have touched my daughter...!" He thunders, rising from his seat as he advances on the despicable man.

"I have my faults, Mr. Swan. Kidnapping is not amongst them." He assuages gently, unaffected by Charles' volume or nearness. "These are rough people, the ones who took her. No telling what they might do." He concludes calmly as he sips his tea unhurriedly.

"Unless we do what you say." Charles deduces, seething with silent fury as he stares daggers at the man with the audacity to do such an indecent thing to decent people.

"Give the man whatever he wants." Renee interjects; her features smooth with steely determination and her voice uncannily detached.

Once their business is concluded, Charles escorts his unwelcome guest to the front porch. Without casting a glance in his direction he hands him the sealed envelope containing the deed to the land which now invests him with ownership.

"Done and done." He says, accepting the envelope eagerly and tucking it away into his satchel. "Nice to have things legal and tidy, don't you agree? The man asks without remorse for the crime he's just committed against a man who's done him no harm. Wordlessly, Charles walks the man down the porch steps with no intention of seeing him to the gate – a custom reserved only for respectable company.

"You're an intelligent, reasonable man, Mr. Swan. I'm seldom wrong as a judge of character." Incredulously, the man pauses and offers Charles his hand to shake. He looks first at the man's extended hand as though it were reptilian, and then glares at the snake himself.

Unoffended, the man withdraws his hand and continues. "Have your friendly constable on hand to make the appropriate arrests. Your terrible ordeal is as good as over. I'll get there before you. We have to move quickly. They were packing to leave." He says to the air as he leaves the Swan's property, never looking back to see if he still has an audience.

The man in the yellow suit, true to his weaselly word, enters the forest ahead of the search party, as it is imperative for his plans effectiveness that he should happen upon Bella and the Cullens first.

Immediately upon his reentry into the house, Charles places a call to Constable Harry Clearwater. He informs him of his meeting with the man in the yellow suit and the now known whereabouts of his daughter.

"What kind of horrible people must these kidnappers be?" Charles ponders aloud, fearful for his daughter and concerned that having been detained by the man in the yellow suit they may not reach her in time.

"There is evil in the world, Mr. Swan. There aren't fences high enough to keep it out." Harry answers with a heavy sigh.

"Bring your men directly to my house. I'm going with you." He informs Harry decisively, unwilling to be denied.

All the Forks townsmen assemble once again at the Swan's with horses and hounds at the ready – shotguns, too. They charge into the surrounding woods following the directives given by the man in the yellow suit.

With Charles at the head they ride with the fierceness of a raging storm; horses' hooves striking the forest floor with the force of rumbling thunderclaps. And the dust clouds billow and rise thick and dark in their wake.

He rides like a madman, as his companions begin to fall behind. Bella's sweet face is ever before his eyes; arms aching as much from his unrelenting grip on the reigns, as from the desire to hold his little girl again.

He will snatch her from their thieving clutches, of this he is certain. And they will pay – with their very lives and the lives of all whom they hold dear if necessary.

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Beneath the canopy of trees in the coolness of the late summer breeze, the Cullens are quietly packing their life away. It seems that Carlisle was right about their time in Forks being almost done.

The melancholy mood leaves them all feeling low, but it hits Jasper particularly severely. Not only is he absorbing the miserable feelings of the others, but he also carries inside him the thorny stem of guilt.

As he thinks about the glimpse he caught of the man in the yellow suit retreating from the far side of the river today, he's confident it was he that must have led him here. So distracted was he by his anger as he left the saloon last night; it never occurred to him to listen for anyone who might be following.

With his thoughts hanging over him as plentiful as the cloud cover overhead, he lends himself more fully to the dismal order of the day.

"It isn't fair, Carlisle." Esme whispers, halting in her packing as she looks upon their little house; hating the thought of leaving again.

"No, it isn't...but when has life ever been fair?" He concurs, pausing at the back of the wagon after handing up to Jasper the latest item to be stacked inside with the others.

Jasper looks between them both with a mournful expression, but says nothing as he lifts the item and disappears into the wagon.

Edward and Bella stand not too far away, their heads bent so that their foreheads touch and their hands clasped tightly against his chest. She looks attentively upon his closed lids, shut in an effort to stay the sorrow that threatens to burst out of him from every pore.

"How am I going to take you home when I can't make my feet move from this spot? He queries sadly before finally opening his eyes to gaze affectionately into hers. "If I could die tomorrow, I'd do it...just to spend one more night with you." He murmurs, cupping her face in his hands, anticipating – with insurmountable joy and pain – the feel of her sweet mouth on his as they both draw near for a kiss.

"Forgive me for interrupting such a tender moment." A voice interjects unexpectedly, halting their lips inches from their desired targets and causing them to turn their heads in the direction of the sound. "Hello, Isabella. Everyone's been so worried about you. I'm relieved to find you so well." The man in the yellow suit says semi-sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders as he smiles.

"You know this man?" Edward asks looking to Bella quizzically, surprised to such a degree that his voice rises in pitch.

"I met him once." She admits, equally surprised to see the man who demonstrated for her the proper way to catch fireflies standing before them.

Hearing a voice that he doesn't recognize, Carlisle turns from his work loading the wagon to look at the man currently conversing with his son and Bella. Seeing that he's attracted more attention; the man in the yellow suit steps slowly in Carlisle's direction.

"Hello, Mr. Cullen. You have no idea what a pleasure it is to meet you." He says in a voice that would seem kind, were it not for the hidden malice Carlisle detects just beneath the surface.

"You're the man who's been following my boys." Carlisle begins as he walks toward the man with Jasper at his flank, quickly shortening the gap between them. "I've been expecting you."

"Yes, and here I am. Tell me, is it a relief...to finally be discovered? Over a century of hiding out must have taken its toll on you." He says solemnly, his entire person dripping with mock concern.

"Who are you? And how do you know so much about us?" Esme queries defensively, disliking the peculiar look and even the smell of the man she finds herself beholding.

"I first heard about your family from my grandmother. She knew a woman in a mental facility who used to...rant and ramble about a family who never grew old and never died. This woman, she used to call out a name. What was it, now? Anna."

Jasper manages to suppress the impulse to wince at the sound of his precious daughter's name falling from the lips of someone so callous. He fixes him with a cold stare as he continues his speech.

"Crazy old woman. Kept on talking about a music box. It seems the melody had a calming effect on her children. I'm sure you know it, Mrs. Cullen?" He proceeds to whistle, with alarming accuracy, the tune from Esme's little silver music box.

As the notes float around them, Esme's mind is filled with the memory of her and her granddaughter, as she taught her how to make a whistle from a blade of grass.

"You have no right...to come to our home...and bring us such pain." She breathes slowly, as she feels the sting of venom standing in her eyes and sees it in the eyes of her loved ones around her.

"There, good mother. I mean no harm." He coos soothingly, though, contrarily concluding his sentiment bearing a brazen smile on his face.

"Tell us, sir. What is it you want?" Carlisle asks, steadying a restless Jasper with a comforting hand on his shoulder, before letting go and coming closer to the man.

"Well, you see, the Swans have given me these woods in exchange for bringing young Isabella back home to them." At his statement, Edward secures Bella tighter in his embrace as she scowls and leans deeper into his side.

He looks on the man with disdain as he smiles in their direction. "I have the papers, all signed and legal. Gives me the rights to the forest and everything in it. Don't be alarmed. I'll let you stay here...on my land if you prove cooperative."

"Cooperative?" Carlisle queries with a tilt of his head.

"I want you to take me to the spring." The man grins merrily, tilting his head in return.

Carlisle takes another step closer to the man. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't insult me, Mr. Cullen. It's immediately clear to me that the water's powers have been wasted on...unimaginative people like you. I intend to make this fountain of youth, as the simpletons would call it available to those who deserve it...for a price, of course."

Carlisle at last closes the gap between himself and the man. "You'll die of old age before I'll take you." He says, staring down on the man as he stands a full head and shoulders above him.

"Is that so?" Then, perhaps Isabella will!" He shouts as he retrieves a gun from his satchel and rips Bella from Edward's arms. Only able to do the latter because Edward realizes he may tear her in two should he resist, with all the unadulterated rage coursing through him.

"No!" He yells desperately, seeing the love of his existence so frightened and in foreign arms. Suddenly, the man aims the gun at Edward and shoots him point blank. As a force of habit he falls to the ground, with the bullet ricocheting off his stone body and imbedding itself in a nearby tree.

"Edward!" Bella screams seeing him crumpled on the ground. Though she knows with her head it is impossible for him to be hurt, the sight of a bullet coming into contact with the body she loves wreaks havoc on her heart.

Understanding that their charade will not serve to protect them in this moment, and unable to stomach the shrill hysterical screams of his love, Edward slowly rises from the earth.

"Yes!" The man in the yellow suit whispers, amazed to finally see what he had only ever dreamed of in action. "Bravo! Come now, Isabella. I'm feeling thirsty." He instructs, pressing the gun to her temple as he backs away in the direction of the forest. "Show me where the spring is. Perhaps I'll let you have a drink. After all...then we can spend...eternity together."

Behind them, Esme sees Carlisle's rifle sitting on a nearby crate and takes it in her hands as the man inches closer, dragging his beloved hostage with him. She eases up soundlessly and, grasping the barrel firmly, she swings the butt of the rifle and cracks it against the scull of the menacing man.

Bella screams as they both fall to their knees. His eyes are wide with shock and his face is mere inches from hers. Unexpectedly, his hand comes forward and tenderly strokes her cheek.

He falls backward to the ground with a moan, bringing Bella with him as she is still locked in his arms. In a state of shock herself she lays atop him, mouth agape as the life drains from his eyes that remain open and perpetually focused on her.

Edward rushes swiftly to her side and peels her from the wicked man's embrace.

"Bella, Bella, come here. It's okay. It's okay, I've got you." He says breathlessly, stealing her away from the awful scene and enfolding her in his arms.

Carlisle stands over the man for a moment but, sensing no heartbeat, he steps around him to collect his heartbroken wife from where she rocks on her haunches; her head tucked between her knees, sobbing soundlessly.

He drops to his knees in front of her and wraps his gentle, reassuring arms all around her. Collapsing into his embrace she buries her head in the security of his chest, allowing the strength of his love to hold her fractured heart together.

"Carlisle." Jasper calls, turning his head toward the sound of dogs barking in the distance, which are growing steadily closer.

Carlisle gets to his feet and scans the surrounding forest as the barking continues. He fixes his gaze on a spot high above them just between a cluster of immature spruce trees.

"There they are! Bella Swan!" Harry shouts into his megaphone from atop the rocky ridge, pointing down to them below.

"I see her! I got her!" Another man yells as he approaches on horseback from the opposite direction.

"Circle around to the right! Watch the water!" Harry instructs the men as they begin streaming in from amongst the foliage.

"Go!" Carlisle whispers to Jasper.

"Don't let anyone get away!" Harry continues, as he makes his way to ground level.

"Edward, come on." Jasper hisses, pulling him away from Bella until their clasped hands are the only thing left physically connecting them. They hold on for dear life, uncertain of when they'll see each other again.

"Bella!" Calls a voice she recognizes all too well.

"Block that trail!" Comes Harry's voice again as he commands his nearest man to take action.

"It's my father." Bella says apologetically, unwilling to loosen her grip on his hands though the voices of her "rescuers" seem to be coming from everywhere…

"Keep them alive!

"Be careful of the girl!"

"Bella!"

Carlisle moves quickly to the porch where he gathers a lantern full of oil and enters the house.

"Let's go!" Jasper hisses with finality, wrestling one of Edward's hands away from Bella before he runs to secure the horse. Holding her gaze Edward shakes his head in the affirmative and reluctantly releases his other hand.

"Wait..." She whispers hoarsely as she watches him run to catch Jasper. He pauses briefly at a tree to look back at her.

"Get on." Jasper commands and with a final gander he turns and leaps off the ground and onto the horse in one swift movement. She watches them prepare to ride away as the voices descend upon her, revealing men armed with guns, but who are unfortunately devoid of the truth…

"Behind the house, men!"

"He's setting the house on fire!"

"Bella!" Charles exclaims as he runs briskly up to her and pulls her into his arms, misunderstanding the reason for her tears. "You're all right. You're all right. We found you. You're safe. You're safe now. Everything's all right." He coos over and over again in her ear. And while she is glad to see her father again, she cannot tear her eyes from the tree line where a horse stands ready to carry her whole world away.

"Bella." Edward mouths longingly to the human girl who is his life now.

"Hyah!" Jasper shouts, swiftly digging his heels into the sides of the animal beneath them, and with haste it vanishes – almost like a ghost in her perception – into the encompassing wall of green.

Carlisle stands calmly on the porch as Harry holds him at gunpoint, his eyes ever on Esme who is but a few feet away; hugging herself as she paces the yard. Smoke rises out of the house behind him, as for the second time in 80 years, flames lick furiously at their home.


	15. Escape

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**14. Escape**

_ The hall clock chimed the hour. _ _Outside, the wind was still. Everything, it seemed, was waiting. _

Carlisle sits motionless in his cell at the Constable's office, listening to Esme's footsteps match the quickened melody of her music box, as she paces in the cell next door. It isn't clear as yet how they will come through this unfortunate circumstance without exposing themselves. But, his faith in Edward and Jasper remains strong.

Bella finds herself in a similar situation as to the day she left, sitting in the study in a single chair opposite two others. Only this time, it is her father and Constable Clearwater occupying the seats in front of her, while her mother stands in the background, facing the window as she fans herself with an ornate oriental fan.

The sound of the clock ticking makes her restless, as if she can feel the seconds, minutes and hours of her life ticking away. She looks at her father, with his hands steepled in the way he so often does – a pose that both reminds her of home, but, doesn't feel like home anymore. She hears him clear his throat to speak and she lifts her head to give him her undivided attention.

"We just want to understand what happened. Bella...try, please." Implores her father with the gentleness she's always loved about him – her perfect salve to soothe the sting of her mother's abrasiveness.

"They didn't kidnap me. I was with them because I wanted to be." She sighs deeply, missing the family who in such a short time has grown so very dear to her. And above all, her Edward, the one with whom her heart now resides.

"She doesn't know what she's saying." Her mother asserts impatiently, snapping shut the delicate fan in her hand in her irritation.

"The Cullens were kind to me. They're my friends." She affirms softly, ignoring her mother's confused and horrified expression. Looking down at her hands she's reminded of Edward's and thinks how strange even this small part of her seems without him.

"If they didn't kidnap you, why on earth did that woman club that man over the head with a shotgun?" Her father inquires in a most severe tone, not out of anger towards her, but, out of fear of the memory of her being so close to danger.

"Because Esme Cullen was protecting me." She answers as she swallows a sob, remembering with a shudder the withered, helpless stare the man beheld her with as he lay dying. The image is still very much ingrained on the backs of her eyelids; sometimes following her into her dreams.

"Doesn't matter anyway. That fella died. It's a murder charge now. I didn't much like the man but that won't stop that poor woman from hanging. Miss is an eyewitness. She'll have to testify." Harry says regretfully, never ceasing the sorrowful shaking of his head.

"Oh, my God." Her mother wails as she quickly departs from the room. Seeing that his wife has had enough for the day, Charles rises from his seat and gestures for Harry to accompany him outside. They descend the porch steps together and are approaching the gate when Harry stops.

"I figured you might want _this_." Harry says as he retrieves an envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket and hands it to Charles. "Doesn't exist, far as I'm concerned. I sure am sorry about all this. Good day." He bids gently, his eyes conveying his sincere and deep regret over the ordeal that befell this family.

"Thank you, Harry." Charles replies appreciatively, as he looks over the document he was forced to hand over to the man in the yellow suit; grateful to have his property returned to him.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Bella, tired from all the questions and thankful that they seem to be over now, retires to her room. The sun is still shining behind the clouds so she doesn't sleep. Instead, she sits on her bed for a long time; long enough to envision an entire lifetime with Edward; long enough for the sun to set on the horizon. And as night falls, it is clear that the makings of a storm are beginning to brew in the atmosphere.

She changes into her favorite white flowing nightgown, the one that reminds her of a bride on her wedding day, turns down the covers, climbs inside and falls immediately to sleep. The dream that ensues is filled with kind aurelian eyes, disheveled bronze hair and a cold, marble embrace.

"Bella." Whispers a velvety voice from the dark corner of her room and she slowly lifts her head at the sound. A familiar figure steps forth from the shadows into the pale moonlight and the sight of his beautiful face under such soft illumination instantly increases the rhythm of her heart.

He doesn't say a word but cherishes the sound he's been missing more than his own life, as his yellow orbs absorb the vision of his love clad only in her nightgown. He stands so still, in fact, that she thinks she must be dreaming. But, then his lips part into the most breathtaking smile as he chuckles softly at her curious expression.

"Edward!" She exclaims with joy, swiftly untangling herself from her bedding and throwing herself into his arms. "Oh, it's you. How did you get in here?" She queries in between frantic but strategically placed kisses to his face – being careful to leave his lips free to answer her.

"The window." He says with a smirk, pulling her closer as the welcome warmth of her body and lips permeate his icy skin. She shivers deliciously, finding herself so pressed against his frigid flesh.

"I was afraid I would never see you again." She breathes into the crook of his neck before applying slow, sensual kisses to the skin she finds there. He moans softly in her ear as he begins to lose himself in the sensation and her ripening scent. Then, remembering the purpose for his visit, he sighs huskily and withdraws from her embrace.

"I need you to help me. I need you to help _us_. Esme can't go to the gallows. She won't die. She can't die. They're going to find out our secret." He explains in a feverish whisper, the intensity she sees in his smoldering topaz eyes exciting the butterflies inside.

"We have to get them out." She agrees, gripping his arms tightly to stave off the inclination to swoon. _This is hardly the time_, she thinks harshly to herself. Would she always feel this way when he looks on her thusly?

Putting all thoughts of his disarming appeal away, she listens with unwavering attention, as he informs her of the escape plan he's devised to free Esme and Carlisle. Both of whom, he informs her, are currently being held in separate holding cells at the Constable's office.

As they are preparing to depart, a thought occurs to her. Her bedroom window is open and yet she hears no horse waiting outside; nary a neigh or whinny or the stomping of restless hooves in the dirt.

"Edward, did you drive here in a wagon or on horseback?" She queries thoughtfully, as she gazes out the open window, into the blustery night and the abject absence of horses.

"Neither. Why do you ask?" He inquires knowingly, working hard to hide a smile that threatens to spread across his face.

"I ask because I don't see how we're going to arrive at the Constable's before daybreak." She pauses briefly as she notices his cheeks twitching madly behind the failing mask of his hand. "What? Why are you smiling…or, rather, trying not to?"

"I'm smiling because in all this time I've yet to show you how _I_ travel in the forest." He says as his mouth twitches up into a crooked smile so beautiful her heart nearly stops.

"Will you turn into a bat?" She asks warily.

"Like I haven't heard _that_ one before!" He says, his hushed laughter sounding like the softest music to her ears. Like that of listening to a music box beneath a silken pillow.

"Yes, I'm sure you are regularly the recipient of just such a comment." She quips skeptically.

"Come on, little coward, climb on my back." She waits to see if he is jesting, but, apparently, he means it. He smiles as he reads her hesitation, and reaches for her. Her heart reacts; even though he can't hear her thoughts, her pulse always gives her away.

He then proceeds to sling her onto his back, with very little effort on her part, besides, when in place, clamping her legs and arms so tightly around him that it would choke a normal person. _It's like clinging to a stone_, she thinks wondrously to herself.

"I'm a bit heavier than your average knapsack," she warns.

"Hah!" he snorts quietly. She could almost hear his eyes rolling. He suddenly grabs her hand, startling her, and presses her palm to his face, inhaling deeply.

"You have a very floral smell, like lavender…or freesia," he notes. "It's mouthwatering." He whispers before jumping out of her window so soundlessly, if it weren't for the fact that her eyes were open, she wouldn't have noticed it at all.

And then he was running.

If she'd ever feared death before in his presence, it was nothing compared to how she felt now.

He streaks through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There is no sound, no evidence that his feet touch the earth. His breathing never changes, never indicates any effort.

But, the trees fly by at deadly speeds. Then, as suddenly as it began, it's over. She blinks a few times, recognition slowly settling in that they are now on the side of the road, across the street from the Constable's office. Thunder crashes loudly overhead, helping her to fully regain her wits after such an extraordinary ride.

Without delay she slides off his back and enters the dirt road, dust and wind whipping all around her due to the approaching storm. She looks back at Edward who has now been joined by Jasper, and gasps.

Above their heads, blowing crazily – like everything else in creation in all this wind – is the noose suspended from the gallows intended for Esme. She swallows hard before turning and running straight for the constable building's outer doors. Edward and Jasper take their places in the windblown road behind her, and wait.

"Help me! Please, help me! Somebody, help me! Please, someone help! Please! Help!" She screams frantically as she bangs on the slightly frosted window set in the wood of the inner door of the office.

"All right." The deputy constable, Sam Uley, yawns as he rises from his seat and rubs at his still sleep laden eyes.

"Help me, please!" She continues to yell as she knocks up and down the glass.

"All right!" Sam calls louder as he approaches the door to let her in, as he does so, she bursts into the office and latches onto his arms.

"Help! PI...Please! Help me! You have to stop them! They're after me!" She exclaims, forcing tears from her eyes as she shakes him vigorously in her feigned hysteria.

"Miss S...Miss Sw..._Who's_ after you?" He stammers, somewhat more alert now, and rubs his forehead in confusion.

"The people who kidnapped me! They're going to take me away again! My parents couldn't stop them! They're right outside! You have to stop them, please! Help! They'll kill me if they find me! Please, they're going to kill me, please!" She wails for all she's worth, truly enjoying the opportunity to practice such theatrics.

"Stay right there! I'll handle this." He says authoritatively, as he unlocks the gun case to retrieve his weapon and steps outside.

"Hurry! Help!" She screams once more for good measure, smiling brightly at her winning performance.

"Come out and meet your doom! Hell is upon you!" Edward bellows from the street as he and Jasper stalk toward the deputy constable. They're attired in dark blue capes and top hats, and wielding long swords that are extending ominously at their sides.

With the wind and the thunder, and their uncharacteristically dark countenances, they are a terrifying sight, indeed.

"Stop right there! You're under arrest!" Sam commands as they get closer to his position, now swinging the swords skillfully, cutting the air in front of them with an unsettling swishing sound.

"Come on, we have to hurry. The boys are outside." Bella informs Carlisle and Esme as she runs into the holding cell area carrying a ring of multiple keys in her hand. She wastes no time trying each of them in the lock, until the iron doors release with a clank.

"Stay back, now! I'll shoot!" The deputy warns seeing that they've no intention of heeding his warning. Cocking his shot gun he takes aim at the unseemly outlaws, dropping first Edward and then Jasper. They hit the ground with a grunt and Sam watches as the dust and wind rolls over their motionless bodies.

Lowering his weapon, he's just relaxing his stance when he detects movement in the road. The thunder crashes loudly as Edward sits up and comes to his feet; followed by Jasper. The frightened deputy, not believing his eyes, cocks his weapon once again, and, with a visibly shaky hand, takes aim.

He eyes them incredulously for a moment, and then, suddenly faltering in his resolve, he lowers his weapon and takes flight down the dusty road – moving as swiftly as his human legs can carry him.

Edward and Jasper turn to each other and smile victoriously as they watch his hasty departure. They retrieve the horses and wagon from their hiding place in the nearby alley, and are parking the small caravan outside the office just as Carlisle, Esme and Bella come through the doors.

Carlisle immediately boards the waiting wagon, but Esme lingers alongside it before turning to face Bella, who she can feel behind her.

"My dear, sweet Bella." She says, wrapping her up in her arms. "What I wouldn't do to keep you. I wish you were ours...for Edward." She pulls away, cupping her face in her hands, as she watches the tears fall from Bella's eyes and splash onto her porcelain skin. "For all of us." She finishes, blinking the venom from her eyes.

"You have to hurry and get away from here." Bella cries, urging her gently in the direction of the door to the wagon.

"Bella...Bella, come with me." Edward implores, as he jumps down from the wagon and rushes to where she stands. He places a hand on either side of her head as he continues. "There's nothing for you here. We can be together forever."

"If she comes with us, they'll hunt us down. They'll never stop looking." Carlisle interjects from the wagon, the look on his face communicating how much he wishes his words weren't true.

"Carlisle is right." She affirms sadly, clasping the place where his neck and shoulder meet in her hand. "If I go with you it'll be too dangerous for all of you."

Desperate, he pulls her a little ways away from the wagon. "I can't go without you." He whispers, his eyes pleading.

She draws him to herself and kisses him soundly, then wraps her arms about his neck and rocks him slowly from side to side. "You have to." She weeps into his neck, holding him as close to herself as she possibly can.

He takes a step back, loosening her grip so he can look into her eyes. "Go back to the spring. Drink from it. When it's safe...I'll come back for you." He promises, as he gently pushes her wind whipped hair behind her ear.

"Will you?" She asks in a breathy whisper, her tears falling freely; blurring her vision.

"I have to show you the Eiffel Tower, don't I?" He queries through his trembling lips, lovingly stroking her hair as he holds her head in his hand.

"1,652 steps to the top." She enthuses, mustering up a half-hearted smile as she repeats his own words back to him.

"Bella...until we're together again...wake up with the dawn." He requests vehemently, his voice breaking on the wind.

"I will." She promises earnestly, nodding her head profusely as she brushes her fingertips across his face, committing each of his flawless features to memory.

"We got to go...before it's too late." Jasper insists from atop his horse, offering a weak, apologetic smile to them both.

Edward looks up at Carlisle, and, nodding once with understanding, he cracks the reigns and begins to drive away. Without a word he breaks away from her embrace, sprints behind the retreating wagon and hops into the back.

His eyes are set unblinkingly on hers as they pull away, when the pool of venom standing there suddenly spills over and flows down his face. Astonished, he touches his fingertips to his wet cheeks.

"Bella Swan...I will love you till the day I die!" He shouts into the wind, one arm stretching straight out in front of him, fingers straining as if to touch her.

She stands in the middle of the road, watching him as he watches her from where he sits on the back of the wagon, weeping as they grow further and further apart. She stays that way until he and the wagon are at last swallowed whole into the cold, tempestuous night.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _There's an entire scene in this chapter that I borrowed from the original **Twilight** novel. Did you catch it? :o) Psst! *Whispers conspiratorially * Am I the only one who will forever read the word "Escape" as "Es-sca-pay!" just like Dory from "Finding Nemo?" Juuus' curious..._


	16. The Choice

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**15. The Choice**

Bella stands in the doorway of her grandmother's bedroom, looking on anxiously as Dr. Gerandy tends to her. With his stethoscope in hand he carefully sets it in several places against her chest, and listens closely to each of her labored breaths.

Her grandmother has been a quiet presence in this house for as long as she can remember. She never complained whenever her mother came at her with her pills, but opened her mouth and accepted what was with grace.

And she never, never criticized Bella's piano playing the way her mother did, but closed her eyes and enjoyed the notes as they came – even the sour ones. She didn't often speak, much to her dismay, as she was sure she would like to have heard the stories that made up the history of her long life.

Contrariwise, she listened amiably to any and everything she had to say. She'd sit with her for long spells, prattling on. And the good natured woman would nod her head and smile; laughing softly whenever something struck her as amusing and patting her cheek tenderly at the things that brought her sorrow.

"She's going fast, but you can have a couple of minutes with her." Dr. Gerandy whispers to her mother from her grandmother's bedside, then stands and departs through the door on the other side of the room.

She watches as her mother sits on the bed and takes the elderly woman's hand in her own, squeezing gently as she offers her a small smile.

"How are you?" Her mother asks her sweetly, to which she offers no reply but continues to battle for breath and look absorbedly at her. In that moment her mother is transformed before her eyes.

She's no longer the hardened tyrant she's always known, but a scared little girl who realizes her mother would soon be leaving her and going to a place where she could not follow. Looking lost for the first time in Bella's recollection; she pulls the covers back and lays down with her, hugging her carefully with one arm as she rests her head on her shoulder.

Bella's own tears fall as that sad woman-child closes her watery eyes and begins to hum softly a last lullaby.

**.**

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**.**

Standing beneath the weeping willows, whose lengthy leaves dance gently on the lilac-scented breeze, the mourners likewise weep as the Reverend speaks. His comforting voice weaves in and out of Bella's hearing as she observes the scenery around her.

"...and to Almighty God we commend the soul of our sister and we commit her body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

She looks at each individual encircling the patch of dirt where the earth was opened up to receive her dear grandmother. All are wearing black, the hue representative of death and mourning. And all, like the woman they mourn, will come to the same end, as others stand by clad in the color of midnight, weeping for them. Again, the voice of the Reverend is heard through her reverie…

"...Resurrection into eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ; at whose coming in glorious Majesty to judge the World, the Earth and the Sea shall give up their Dead; and the corruptible bodies of those who sleep in him shall be changed, and made like unto his own glorious Body; according to the mighty working whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself."

She looks down at the blossoms in her hand, how the vivid colors contrast so starkly against her black gloves. Stark and stunning all at the same time is this most picturesque metaphor; death and life simultaneously in the palm of her hands.

.

.

.

.

.

Glancing out the window, Bella beholds the oddest sight: her mother standing at the end of the yard, facing the wrought iron fence and the ever present woods beyond. She slowly makes her way out to her, both still clothed in the coal-colored dresses they wore to the cemetery that morning.

"Mother?" She says inquiringly upon approaching her, noting the faraway look in her eyes.

"I was just wondering what it is about these woods you love so much." She replies not unkindly without looking at her, before sighing and slowly turning her head. Her eyes are moist and her expression is unreadable.

"Mother, are you all right?" She queries, the alarm she feels causing her voice to squeak as she watches her mother's face contort with grief. "I'm going to miss her, too." She sniffles, her chocolate eyes filled with sympathy and tears.

"Oh..." She begins, taking a deep shaky breath as she lifts her hand to Bella's face. "Every time I look at you, you're different. I'm losing you, too." She warbles gently as she moves her hand to hold her chin.

"I'm right here." Bella cries ardently, breaking down under the weight of her own sorrow and her mother's sorrowful and tender confession. And for the first time since she was a very small girl, her mother kisses her as she takes her in her arms.

"Forgive me, Bella. I just wanted to keep you my little girl forever." She whispers as she strokes her back continuously with her hand. The two women stand there sobbing and hugging for an immeasurable moment, neither of them in any hurry to let go.

**.**

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**.**

Sitting at the foot of that tall, majestic tree in the center of the forest, Bella absorbs the beauty all around her as she gathers a handful of the healing water, and tilting her hand watches it trickle back into the spring.

She does this repeatedly, sometimes stopping to slowly caress and churn the tiny pool, feeling the magical moisture slip like liquid silk through her fingers. Looking into its shallow depths, she smiles sweetly as she hears Edward's velveteen voice in her head…

_Go back to the spring. When it's safe, I'll come back for you._

Her smile falters; however, as his voice is replaced by Carlisle's and his sober words ring clear as a bell in the otherwise quiet of her mind…

_What we Cullens have, you can't call it living. We just...are. We're like rocks stuck at the side of the stream_.

She stares at her reflection, alternately smiling and frowning, playing each man's message over and over again. Her indecision is as tangible as the cloud cover overhead, the moss beneath her feet and the water within her hand.

**.**

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**.**

_The first weeks of summer_ _were long over. There was a feeling_ _that the wheel_ _was turning again…slowly now, but soon to go faster. Bella and her family_ _left Forks to see the world. She wasn't certain_ _what her journey might bring,_ _but this much she knew – it would be something_ _of her own choosing. _


	17. Edward Returns

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

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**16. Edward Returns**

_ For some, time passes slowly. An hour can seem an eternity. For others, there's never enough. For Edward Cullen, it didn't exist. _

**_Springtime – 2003 _**

As the wheel continued in its course through the current of time, simple merchant shops made of wood were replaced by sturdy structures of stone and buildings of brick. While boxy Model T's made way for sleek Mustang GT's – and once dusty dirt roads gave way to smooth black asphalt. Asphalt that is currently accommodating vehicles of varying makes, shapes and sizes.

Among the few motorists on the main road of Forks, rides a mysterious stranger in black, who perhaps isn't so strange, on the back of a silver chrome motorcycle. His shiny onyx helmet aids in hiding his identity; keeping his secret from the curious onlookers as he coasts through the intersection at the apex of town.

He pauses briefly as he surveys the landscape, then, certain of his course, proceeds. His route eventually leads him to a narrow dirt path which he follows without hesitation. He comes to a stop near the end, where he removes his helmet and gazes thoughtfully at the familiar sight in front of him, smiling wistfully.

Edward's coppery-bronze mane is as untidy as ever as it's caught in a gusty breeze, and blown like open flames about his head. He runs a hand through his untamed locks, removing the pieces that have fallen into his honey-golden eyes; inadvertently obstructing his view.

Much has changed in Forks, he's observed, in these 87 years, but it looks as though the important things remain. The forest with its towering army of trees, the stately white house with wrought iron fencing across the way, a near-constant cover of clouds expanding as far as the eye can see, and, hopefully – above all – his heart.

He isn't entirely sure where he should start, as there wasn't time to adequately plan while he was escaping with his family into the night. So, naturally, he decides to begin at the beginning and go on from there.

Leaving the bike where it stands on the path, he enters the ancient forest. He takes his time traversing over moss and through thick brush and hanging vines; reacquainting himself with the lushness he so long ago called home. He breaks through to a small clearing by and by and beholds a great tree; which to this day is still the largest he's ever seen.

On the forest floor all around him grow stalks of aromatic lavender and lovely white freesias, which he recognizes as a new addition to the antique greenery. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply and remembers the frail human girl with the intoxicating floral scent. _She did this_, he thinks to himself, thrilling at her thoughtfulness. He opens his eyes and steps further into the clearing – only to stop suddenly.

Beneath the tree where the spring should be…something foreign is protruding. Someone has erected an insidious looking object, and, immediately he knows what it is he beholds. But, he walks forward very slowly for a closer look. His breathing becomes more laborious with every step until at last he's standing directly in front of it.

He kneels down, feeling his heart hit the ground before he does, as he reads the writing etched in the carefully cultivated stone:

In Loving Memory

ISABELLA SWAN JACKSON

Dear Wife – Dear Mother

1899 – 1999

He sighs heavily as each and every loving memory he owns of his beloved Bella, paints itself on the canvas of his mind. He sees her running away from him in this very place, not understanding then – like he understands now – why chasing after her was so exhilarating.

The sound of her laughter ruminates in his head and the hollows of his heart, as the vision of her playing in the green and gold grasses of the field takes hold. He remembers her wet and weightless in his arms, at the bottom of the Sol Duc Falls, as he gently spun her around and around. The fragrance coming off her skin, intensified by the moisture, was excruciatingly exquisite.

The memory of firelight on her face, spinning faster and faster as they danced together in the forest, overwhelms him. She was so beautiful that night, twirling and stealing his long dead heart away with every turn. Smiling weakly as the venom flows from his eyes, he follows the trail of the climbing flowers as they reach to the very heights of the tree; ending with open sky.

"Goodbye, my Bella, goodbye." He breathes shakily into the expanse above him, as a ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds; covering his skin in dazzling light and thousands of iridescent sparkles.

_ Carlisle said it to Bella_ _the summer of her 17__th__ year:_ _Do not fear death, but rather the unlived life. _ _You don't have to live forever. _ _You just have to live. _

_And she did. _


	18. Epilogue

********I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended. I do this not for compensation, but merely for the merriment of myself and my fellow twilighters. I may own a ferocious Edward appetite, but Natalie Babbitt owns _Tuck Everlasting_ and Stephenie Meyer owns all things _Twilight!_****

* * *

**Epilogue**

**_Tuesday, January 18_****_th_****_, 2005 – Forks High School_**

This is the time of day that Edward wishes he were able to sleep.

High school.

_Or, was purgatory the right word?_ He muses to himself. If there were any way to atone for his sins, he thought this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium is not something he grows used to; everyday seems more impossibly monotonous than the last.

He supposes that this _is_ his form of sleep – if sleep is defined as the inert state between active periods.

He stares at the cracks running through the plaster in the far corner of the cafeteria, imagining patterns into them that are not there. It is one way to tune out the voices that babble like the gush of a river inside his head.

Several hundred of these voices he ignores out of boredom.

When it comes to the human mind, he's heard it all before and then some. Today, all thoughts are consumed with, what is in his opinion, the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body. _It takes so little to work them all up_, he scoffs mentally; feeling superior.

Refusing to lower himself to their level, he works that much harder to keep their thoughts from intruding on his. His diligence has been rewarded thus far with blissful ignorance. He has no idea who this new girl is; nor does he want to.

This ignorance is no small accomplishment for a telepath. On more than one occasion, the new face that travels from thought to thought in the minds of those around him sought to invade the inner sanctum of his cerebellum.

And each time he batted it away before the image could take root.

What did he care about the introduction of another human girl into this proverbial small pond of females? There was only one girl that he ever truly cared for, and she had chosen to leave him. _Why?_ He thought for the millionth time this decade.

He couldn't fathom why she didn't wait for him, the way he had waited for her. How could she leave him to spend the long years of his life alone? Feeling himself growing depressed from his current train of thought, he quickly seeks a distraction.

Allowing himself to acquiesce minutely from his rigid disinterest in the girl, he listens in as Jessica Stanley brings her up to speed on his family. _If nothing else_, he deduces, _this little mental excursion ought to be amusing._

"Who are they?" The new girl asks in reference to his adoptive siblings, as they make their way easily through the parting sea of students to their table.

"The Cullens. They just moved down here two years ago from somewhere in Alaska." Jessica begins, feeling important because she knows something someone else does not. "And that's –"

"Edward Cullen." The new girl breathes in a shaky whisper.

It isn't the fact that the new girl knows his name that seizes Edward's attention, but the way she said it. The hauntingly familiar way she breathed it. Very slowly, he pushes aside the blockade he's been holding firm all day and lets in the image of the girl in Jessica's mind.

_Bella_. He says to himself incredulously, as his head is overrun with images of her, from every angle, being repeated in the thoughts of nearly everyone around him.

Shock keeps him in his seat for all of two seconds before he's on his feet and moving at a quick, yet torturously slow human pace toward Jessica's table. He can hear the concerned voices of his family as they call out behind him, but he offers them no explanation as he darts through the crowded lunchroom.

"Yeah," Jessica continues, not at all fazed by Bella's quick recognition. _It's not like he can hide all that sexy_, she sighs internally. "He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough…" She trails off, stunned silent by the sight of Edward standing at her table and looking so intently at her new companion.

Without a word he lifts and cradles her in one arm, kissing her soundly as he collects her tray in his free hand and walks away. He kisses her deeply, his tongue moving across hers with slow, languid strokes. He takes his time devouring her sweet mouth and savoring her inebriating scent.

Maneuvering with the aid of his vampiric senses, he kisses her slowly and passionately across the length of the cafeteria, toward the table he shares with his brothers and sisters, welcoming the familiar burn. Upon arrival he relinquishes her tray to the table's surface, but keeps her in his arms as he folds himself into his chair.

All of the Cullens look on their reunion with unconcealed joy; knowing all too well through Edward's countless accounts of the magnitude of this moment. And of the human girl who was believed to be dead, who was now very much alive.

"You're alive." He laughs softly as he at last releases her from his lips.

"Very much so." She replies breathlessly, struggling to regain her equilibrium after being kissed senseless.

"You couldn't leave a note?" He queries with mock severity, arching one perfect eyebrow clear to his hairline.

"Darn it – I knew I forgot something." She replies, snapping her fingers once in a show of feigned forgetfulness.

"That, my Bella, is what one would call an understatement. What on earth happened after you drank from the spring?"

"Well, we left Forks shortly after you all left and toured the world. All except for Paris," She says with a wink. "I wouldn't dream of obstructing our long standing date to the Eiffel Tower. Almost two years later I faked my death in a drowning accident. Obviously, I couldn't come back to Forks because people knew me here. So, I lived abroad in London, until I moved back here two days ago."

"No wonder I didn't recognize your voice right away, you, my girl, have developed the smallest touch of an English accent." He informs, tapping her lightly on the nose with his index finger.

"Have I? I never noticed." She says amusedly.

"So, if you were in London all this time…how did the monument and the flowers…?" He inquires, feeling more than a little confused.

"Oh, I had to arrange all of that remotely, hence the lack of a note. I couldn't very well write: 'Dear Edward, I'm not really dead.' On the back of my own grave, now could I? Besides, it wasn't left for your benefit." She asserts, as she shrugs nonchalantly.

"I beg your pardon? If not for me, then just who were you leaving it for, pray tell?" He asks warily, tilting his head slightly in order to better read her expression.

"I left it for my family. So they'd have a place to pay their respects that was close enough for them to visit...but, remote enough for the world to forget. It'd be pretty hard to go on living as Isabella Swan with my grave sitting in Forks Cemetery for any and all to see." She explains matter-of-factly.

"And this business about your being a dear _wife_ and _mother_ who died in 1999? I realize I'm impervious to coronaries Bella, but, still, that hurt." He admits with a grimace, though grateful to have been under a misapprehension, the phantom grief causes his heart to constrict painfully.

Understanding what the news of her death must have done to him, she places a hand on either side of his head as she kisses and whispers her apologies repeatedly against his lips. When she feels his broadening smile spreading across her mouth, she knows she's forgiven and proceeds in answering his question.

"I had that part added after my parents died, so I could pretend to be my great-great granddaughter." She says apologetically, truly sorry to have caused him unnecessary pain.

"Well, it seems that you thought of everything – apart from the insignificant detail of letting me think you were dead." He teases mercilessly. "A coded notice in the newspaper would have run you, what? Three, four cents back then? And let us not forget the free and ever faithful carrier pigeon."

"I'm sorry!" She exclaims with fake exasperation; slapping him lightly on the arm as she chortles at his antics. "I honestly thought you of all people would know it was a ruse."

"And how would, _I_, of all people, know something like that, exactly?" He quizzes skeptically.

"Edward Cullen, you swore to love me until the day you die. To let you love me forever – without me – would have been unconscionably rude." She coos as she inches slowly toward him.

"That's right. And you are nothing if not polite – how appallingly short sighted of me." He breathes against her lips, fanning his cool, delirium inducing scent across her face.

"How, indeed." She murmurs, silencing any further discussion with a searing kiss.

At the sound of the bell signifying the end of the lunch period, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper and Alice (yes, Alice!) rise quietly from the table leaving the two young lovers as they head off to their respective classes.

It would seem that the reports of Alice's death were greatly exaggerated. And while she little knows who to thank for turning her, both she and Jasper remain eternally grateful for their second chance.

The warning bell rings shrilly overhead and reluctantly, Bella withdraws herself from the comfort of Edward's lap.

"And just where do you think you're going? I'll have you know that I am nowhere near finished kissing you." He murmurs softly and somewhat roughly, his voice thick with longing after receiving such a kiss.

"Nor I you, but, we have plenty of time for that – after school." She reminds gently, tugging on his hand slightly to persuade him to rise.

He stands and cups either side of her neck just beneath her jaw. He strokes her flushed cheeks, luxuriating in the pleasant warmth as he gazes into her eyes. "And forever after that." He promises sincerely.

"Forever." She echoes after him, equally sincere, as she reaches up on her tiptoes to engage him in a kiss, that would take them well beyond the final bell, the walls of the now empty cafeteria, and the comprehension of time itself.

The End?

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**_ I borrowed again from "Midnight Sun" and "Twilight" – just giving credit where credit is due. Stephenie Meyer, we love you! :o) Thanks for reading!_


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